May the path of life
forgive our errors,
far from the honour
born under ill omen.
In the hands of that thing
there isn’t any martyr or hero,
in spite of its whiteness
it leads you to the grave.
The dawn of the millennium1
is knocking on the door
and the hope is leaving,
it doesn’t watch over us anymore.
Teaspoons crossed
in the “brown sugar”
with you, like a dickhead,
and two squeezed lemons.
Don’t call her Mary,
don’t call her Jane2.
it’s a greater pain,
it’s in another way.
In the name of the sun
it would be a pity
for the sake of our soul
if we won’t kill the evil.
As black as the horror,
the time cheats us
but if it adjusts its aim
we'll ask for love, too.
Don’t call her Mary,
don’t call her Jane,
it’s a greater pain,
it’s in another way.
On Christmas Day
will you make a gift to yourself?
of course it isn’t free
but is worth more than gold.
And now immerse yourself in the crowd
and don’t delete your past,
and if your memory is broken down
look for some light in the present.
Don’t call her Mary,
don’t call her Jane,
it’s a greater pain,
it’s in another way.
And now immerse yourself in the crowd
and don’t delete your past,
and if your memory is broken down
look for some light in the present.
On Christmas Day
will you make a gift to yourself?
of course it isn’t free
but is worth more than gold.
The snow is falling white,
a rose is blooming brightly,
that thing is dying
in this war against you.
Don’t call her Mary,
don’t call her Jane,
it’s a greater pain,
it’s in another way.
1. Literally “the Hail Mary of the year two thousand”. The song was written in the 1992.2. Mary-Jane: marijuana