Виктор Третьяков - Эх, раз...
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Дал мне Бог писать стихи,
И вот пошла морока:
Получил я за грехи
Знания Пророка.
Эх, жизнь моя, убогая —
Песня моя лучшая.
Жаль, что нужен Богу я,
Лишь, как «овца заблудшая».
Потеряй меня, прошу,
А то мне всё икается.
Ведь затем я и грешу,
Чтоб потом покаяться.
Припев:
Эх, раз,
Да ещё раз,
Да ещё много, много раз…
А я и впрямь, как та овца,
А вокруг — трясина.
Если кто не знал Отца,
То как познает Сына?
А у пророков всех мастей —
Белые одежды.
И на Бога у властей,
Да нет уже надежды.
Хошь кого пойди, спроси,
Как тяжко быть правителем:
Вон, Патриарх всея Руси
И тот — с телохранителем!
А я махну стакан и, глядь —
Страху-то больше нету,
И пойду себе гулять,
Да… без бронежилету…
Припев:
Эх, раз,
Да ещё раз,
Да ещё много, много раз…
На Россию нынче спрос:
У «попсы» — аншлаги.
Вышит золотом Христос,
Эх, да на красном флаге!
И бродит истина в вине,
Нам на развлечение…
И мурашки по спине
От Его учения…
Мол, если хлеба бросишь псам,
То про детей забудешь… но
Не суди других, и сам
Да несудимым будешь.
А лучше, нищим всё раздай —
Истины простые…
Да нам любую веру дай,
И будут вам святые!
Припев:
Эх, раз,
Да ещё раз,
Да ещё много, много раз…
А у нас сегодня пьют,
Да не проси, не в форме я…
Слышишь, Ангелы поют:
«Хотел Калифорния».
А мне б огурчиков на стол,
Прямо с огороду,
Да царя бы на престол —
Русскому народу.
Но, тот — «святой», а тот — «пророк» —
Нет печальней повести…
Впрочем, святость — не порок,
Если жить по совести.
Припев:
Эх, раз,
Да ещё раз,
Да ещё много, много раз…
God gave me to write poetry
And then Moroka went:
I got for sins
Knowledge of the prophet.
Eh, my life, wretched -
The song is my best.
It is a pity that God needs me,
Only like "a sheep lost."
Lost me, please
And then everything hits me.
After all, then I sin
In order to repent later.
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
And I really, like that sheep,
And around - a quagmire.
If anyone did not know his father,
How does the son know?
And the prophets of all stripes -
White clothes.
And to God the authorities,
Yes, there is no hope.
You want someone to go, ask,
How hard it is to be a ruler:
There, the patriarch of all Russia
And he is with a bodyguard!
And I wave a glass and look -
There is no more fear,
And I'll go for a walk,
Yes ... without body armor ...
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
In Russia today, demand:
The poppy has a full house.
Elected by the gold of Christ,
Eh, yes on the red flag!
And the truth wanders in the fault,
We are for entertainment ...
And goosebumps on the back
From his teachings ...
Like, if you throw bread to the dogs,
Then you will forget about children ... but
Do not judge others, and yourself
Yes, you will be incredible.
And better, give everything to the poor -
The truths are simple ...
Yes, give us any faith,
And you will be saints!
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
And they drink today,
Don’t ask, I am not in shape ...
You hear the angels sing:
"I wanted California."
And I would be cucumbers on the table,
Right with the garden,
Yes, the king would be on the throne -
Russian people.
But, he is a “saint”, and he is a “prophet” -
There is no sadder of the story ...
However, holiness is not a vice,
If you live according to conscience.
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
And then Moroka went:
I got for sins
Knowledge of the prophet.
Eh, my life, wretched -
The song is my best.
It is a pity that God needs me,
Only like "a sheep lost."
Lost me, please
And then everything hits me.
After all, then I sin
In order to repent later.
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
And I really, like that sheep,
And around - a quagmire.
If anyone did not know his father,
How does the son know?
And the prophets of all stripes -
White clothes.
And to God the authorities,
Yes, there is no hope.
You want someone to go, ask,
How hard it is to be a ruler:
There, the patriarch of all Russia
And he is with a bodyguard!
And I wave a glass and look -
There is no more fear,
And I'll go for a walk,
Yes ... without body armor ...
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
In Russia today, demand:
The poppy has a full house.
Elected by the gold of Christ,
Eh, yes on the red flag!
And the truth wanders in the fault,
We are for entertainment ...
And goosebumps on the back
From his teachings ...
Like, if you throw bread to the dogs,
Then you will forget about children ... but
Do not judge others, and yourself
Yes, you will be incredible.
And better, give everything to the poor -
The truths are simple ...
Yes, give us any faith,
And you will be saints!
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
And they drink today,
Don’t ask, I am not in shape ...
You hear the angels sing:
"I wanted California."
And I would be cucumbers on the table,
Right with the garden,
Yes, the king would be on the throne -
Russian people.
But, he is a “saint”, and he is a “prophet” -
There is no sadder of the story ...
However, holiness is not a vice,
If you live according to conscience.
Chorus:
Eh, one
Yes, again,
Yes, many, many times ...
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