I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
[Chorus:]
Be afraid of the lame
They'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old
They'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold
They'll inherit your blood
Apres moi, le deluge
After me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
[Chorus x2]
[Russian*:]
ÃÂäÃÂõÃÂòÑâ¬ÃÂðûÑÃ
Â'. ÃÂ"ÃÂþÑÃÂÑâÂÂÃÂðÑâÂÂÑÃ
Â' Ñâ¡ÃÂõÑâ¬ÃÂýÃÂøû ÃÂø ÿûÃÂððÃÂðÑâÂÂÑÃ
Â'!
ÃÂÃ
¸ÃÂøÑÃÂÃÂðÑâÂÂÑÃ
Â' ÃÂþ ÑÃÂõÃÂòÑâ¬ÃÂðûÃÂõ ÃÂýÃÂðÃÂòÃÂ÷Ñâ¬Ñâ¹ÃÂ',
ÃÂÃ
¸ÃÂþðÃÂð óÑâ¬ÃÂþÑ...ÃÂþÑâ¡ÑÃÂ'Ñâ°ÃÂðÑàÑÃÂûÑÃÂðÃÂþÑâÂÂÑÃ
Â'
ÃÂ'ÃÂõÑÃÂÃÂýÃÂþÑÃ
½ Ñâ¡Ñ'Ñâ¬ÃÂýÃÂþÑÃ
½ óÃÂþÑâ¬ÃÂøÑâÂÂ.
[Repeat]
[Chorus]
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I, oh, must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
[Repeat]
[* Words from a poem by Boris Pasternak. English translation:
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.]