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In my dream - yellow lights,
and I'm wheezing in my sleep;
Wait a while longer, a while longer,
The morning will be wiser
But in the morning everything's wrong,
The joy is gone;
Either you smoke on an empty stomach,
Or you do hair of the dog,
Hey one,
And once again;
And many-many more times...
And once again;
Or you do hair of the dog,
In the bars; green tablecloths
And white napkins.
Heaven for the poor and morons,
But for me - like a bird in a cage!
In the church; stench and gloom,
Preachers burning incense.
No! Even in church everything's wrong,
Not as it should be.
Hey one,
And once again;
And many-many more times...
And once again;
Nothing's as it should be.
To the mountain I rush,
So that there might be something,
On the mountain stands an alder,
While below a cherry tree;
If only to cover the the slope with ivy;
I'd get some joy from it,
Just something else;
Nothing's as it should be.
Hey one, (What you playing at!).
And once again (What you playing at!);
And many-many more times..
And once again; Nothing's as it should be.
Then to the field I go,
along the river bank;
A thundering gloom of light - no God!
While in the pure field; cornflowers
and a distant road.
Along the road there's a forest dense
With Baba-Yaga witches;
And at the end of that road;
The scaffold with axes.
Somewhere the stallions dance in time,
Unhurried and easy.
Along the road everything is wrong,
But at the end, completely so.
Neither in church nor the in the bar-
Nothing is holy.
No, my friends; everything's wrong,
Everything's wrong, my friends!
Hey one,
And once again;
And many-many more times...
And once again; Nothing's as it should be.