Джио Россо - Бог едет в маршрутке - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

God goes in a minibus, a sick and sullen, shabby jacket and a knitted scarf. It has hundreds of doubts and five extra glasses. On the map - not a penny for another ten days. Croes of shabby trees crash into a frozen sky, dirt on the streets. Anemones, good people and honest power bloom in a distant country.

God accelerates the step, walking past the church - again, bubbles, cripples, a trash. The dog is hungry, (probably threw it in the garbage dumps). And something is irritating, and in the throat a heavy and astringent lump. '' You could help '' ' - the voice of conscience sip. '' Give the poor for bread, the dog to find a new house. 'But God continues to walk without looking back:' 'Everyone has a hard life, this is an evil rock. The sky will help them, everything will be in order. What can I? After all, I am not a god at all. ''

God wants to go to the country of anemones, He accumulates diligently and teaches the language. Piones bloom under his house, but God, of course, does not care about them. Newspapers shout about the war inevitable, a fiery banner is burning revolution. Seasons habitually change clothes. God thinks: '' Everything that is happening is a trifle. '' More and more homeless, fewer satisfied. Increasingly, he compresses whiskey from pain. God whispers tiredly: '' Well, enough, enough. After all, I still can’t save anyone. ''

God is not a bastard at all, He longs for peace, like everyone who lives in a stream of centuries. He simply does not know (and in this grief) that everyone born in the world is God.

*

God turns a raw, broken lips twitches in hand, rain scratches. Putting shells and bullets whistle behind the village. The body is a familiar evil trembling. The country of anemones and red trees lies underfoot, broken to dust. Here everyone is the same - Germans, Jews, there is no difference in races, there is stupidity in the minds. Stupid tanks crawl along the bones. The machine gun growls: '' tra-on-on, tra-on-ta ''. The world stood on its hind legs, turned the wrong side, but how is its core empty.

God smokes and cries, and without noticing that instead of water, blood drips out of the eyes. And the stuffy July is a poisoned evening, burys under the sky of the dead gods.