Текст песни ВИКТОР-------------- - АФГАНСКИЙ СИНДРОМ

My soul yearns
I live slowly now
But youth was good
It is a pity, burned out.
I understood life - this and that.
They fought for emptiness.
And now they shout to us a mile away:
"Lepers!"

In psychiatric hospitals and camps
How many of us!
Let them write the truth someday
Only without embellishment.
Who will understand, besides ourselves,
Are our souls broken?
We are strangers among our own.
Afghan Syndrome.

We live as if on glass.
Someone found happiness in the noose.
Well, someone stepped to the ground
From the roof of the house.
To whom cameras and continue,
The doctor and the galloper,
And to whom the automatic barrel
Puts the zone.

In psychiatric hospitals and camps
How many of us!
Let them write the truth someday
Only without embellishment.
Who will understand, besides ourselves,
Are our souls broken?
We are strangers among our own.
Afghan Syndrome.

Owners of summer cottages and the Volga
They drove us on some kind of debt
And often the finish line was the morgue
Evil eternity.
Don't groan from impotence
After all, heroes are not us - they
Light up the lights for a minute
Humanity.

In psychiatric hospitals and camps
How many of us!
Let them write the truth someday
Only without embellishment.
Who will understand, besides ourselves,
Are our souls broken?
We are strangers among our own.
Afghan Syndrome.