(музыка: M. Harket на стихи Иосифа Бродского)

As you pour yourself a scotch [bad word] a roach or check your watch
As your hands adjust your tie
people die

In the towns with funny names
Hit by bullets, caught in flames
By and large not knowing why
people die

And in small places you don't know of
Yet big for having no chance to scream
Or say good-bye
people die

La la... Let me know

People die as you elect
New apostles of neglect, self restraint
Whereby people die
Too far off to practice love
For thy neighbour, brother Slav
Where your [bad word] dread to fly people die

La la... Let me know

While the statues disagree
Cain's version, history for its fuel
Tends to buy
Those who die

As you watch the atletes score
Or check your latest statement
Or sing your child a lullaby
people die

Time, whose sharp, bloodthirsty quill
Parts the killed from those who kill
Will pronounce the latter tribe
As your type