| PIERRE
|
| It’s dawned on me suddenly
|
| And for no obvious reason
|
| That I can’t go on
|
| Living as I am
|
| The zest of life has vanished
|
| Only the skeleton remains
|
| Unexpectedly vile
|
| I used to be better
|
| O Pierre! |
| Our merry feasting crank
|
| Our most dear, most kind, most smart and eccentric
|
| A warm-hearted Russian of the old school
|
| His purse is always empty
|
| Cuz it’s open to all
|
| O Pierre
|
| Just one of a hundred sad old men
|
| Living out their final days in Moscow
|
| PIERRE
|
| I drink too much
|
| Right now, my friend fights and bleeds
|
| And I sit at home and read
|
| Hours at a time
|
| Hours at my screen
|
| Anything, anything
|
| Abandoned to distraction
|
| In order to forget
|
| We waste our lives
|
| Drowning in wine
|
| I never thought that I’d end up like this
|
| I used to better
|
| And the women they all pity me
|
| Cuz I’m married
|
| But not in love
|
| Frozen at the center
|
| WOMEN
|
| Il est charmant; |
| il n’a pas de sexe
|
| He is charming; |
| he has no sex
|
| O Pierre! |
| Our merry feasting crank
|
| Our most dear, most kind, most smart and eccentric
|
| A warm-hearted Russian of the old school
|
| HIs purse is always empty
|
| Cuz it’s open to all
|
| O Pierre
|
| Just one of a hundred sad old men
|
| Living out their final days in Moscow
|
| PIERRE
|
| There’s a ringing in my head
|
| There’s a sickness in the world
|
| And everyone knows
|
| But pretends that they don’t see
|
| «Oh, I’ll sort it out later»
|
| But later never comes
|
| PIERRE & MEN
|
| And how many men before
|
| Good Russian men
|
| Believing in goodness and truth
|
| PIERRE
|
| Entered that door
|
| With all their teeth and hair
|
| And left it toothless and bald
|
| You empty and stupid
|
| Contented fellows
|
| Satisfied with your place
|
| I’m different from you
|
| I’m different from you
|
| I still want to do something
|
| Or do you struggle too?
|
| I pity you, I pity me, I pity you
|
| I pity you, I pity me, I pity you
|
| Ah … |