navisli kach chuchi grustnyye mysli
sdavila gorlo nemaya toska
ya chuvstvuyu, chto skoro slomayus'
sunu v petlyu golovu ya
ya ustal ot bessonnitsy dolgoy
ya ustal ot svoikh grustnykh stikhov
ya ustal byt' normal'nym
ya ustal, ya ustal, ya ustal, ya ustal
net uzhe sil po baram spivat'sya
no net sil brosit' pit'
net sil derzhat'sya za chto-libo
ves moy mir kazhetsya ne moy, nemoy
ni rydat' ne mozhet zhenshchina
ya ne chuvstvuyu sebya zhivym
ya chuvstvuyu, chto slomayus'
sunu v petlyu golovu ya
kogda ya perestanu dumat' o smerti?
kogda-zheluyus' izbavit'sya ot samogo sebya?
vosh' ya drozhashchaya ili pravda posmeyu
ubit'samogo sebya?
Oh, my darkness
My painfull goddes
Oh, my darkness
Oh, my sweet decadance
