Lyrics
[laugh]
[Instrumental Intro]
[Cello Solo]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Drums]
[Verse 1]
I said fate plays a game without a score,
and who needs fish if you've got caviar?
The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass
and turn you on - no need for coke, or grass.
I sit by the window. Outside, an aspen.
When I loved, I loved deeply. It wasn't often.
[Verse 2]
I said the forest's only part of a tree.
Who needs the whole girl if you've got her knee?
Sick of the dust raised by the modern era,
the Russian eye would rest on an Estonian spire.
I sit by the window. The dishes are done.
I was happy here. But I won't be again.
[Drums]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Cello Solo]
[Chorus]
[Gospel Choir]
[A Cappella]
I sit by the window. And while I sit
my youth comes back. Sometimes I'd smile. Or spit.
[Female Narrator]
Помнишь, что слитая в миску Богу Солнца людская кровь укрепляет в последнем мышцу;
что вечерняя жертва восьми молодых и сильных обеспечивает восход надёжнее, чем будильник?
[Drums]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Cello Solo]
[laugh]
[Chorus]
[Gospel Choir]
[A Cappella]
I sit by the window. And while I sit
my youth comes back. Sometimes I'd smile. Or spit.
[Cello Solo]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Drums]
[Verse 3]
My song was out of tune, my voice was cracked,
but at least no chorus can ever sing it back.
That talk like this reaps no reward bewilders
no one - no one's legs rest on my sholders.
I sit by the window in the dark. Like an express,
the waves behind the wavelike curtain crash.
[Verse 4]
A loyal subject of these second-rate years,
I proudly admit that my finest ideas
are second-rate, and may the future take them
as trophies of my struggle against suffocation.
I sit in the dark. And it would be hard to figure out
which is worse; the dark inside, or the darkness out.
[Drums]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Cello Solo]
[Chorus]
[Gospel Choir]
[A Cappella]
I sit by the window. And while I sit
my youth comes back. Sometimes I'd smile. Or spit.
[Female Narrator]
Помнишь, что слитая в миску Богу Солнца людская кровь укрепляет в последнем мышцу;
что вечерняя жертва восьми молодых и сильных обеспечивает восход надёжнее, чем будильник?
[Drums]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Cello Solo]
[laugh]
[Chorus]
[Gospel Choir]
[A Cappella]
I sit by the window. And while I sit
my youth comes back. Sometimes I'd smile. Or spit.
[Cello Solo]
[Syncopated Bass]
[Keyboards Riffs]
[Drums]
[End]
[laugh]
