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 I used to be better I used to be better I used to be better I used to be better I used to be better
Oh, Pierre, our merry feasting crank, our most dear, most kind, most smart, and eccentric, the warm white Russian of the old school.
His purse is always empty, cause it's open to all.
Just one of a hundred sad old men living out their final days in Moscow.
I drink too much.
Right now my friends fights and bleeds and I sit at home and read
Hours at a time, hours that might 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 be better
And the women, they all pity me, cause I'm married, but not in love.
Frozen at the center.
Il est charmant, il a pas du sexe.
He is charming, he has no sex.
Oh, 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, cause it's open to all of the air.
Just sad old men living out their final days in Moscow.
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 And how many men before Good Russian men
Believing in goodness and truth.
Enter that door.
With all their teeth and hair And left it
Truthless and bald You empty and stupid Potent 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
