Текст песни George Michael - Playing For Time
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Здесь расположен текст песни George Michael - Playing For Time, перевод и видео.
С этой песней обычно слушают:
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we'll take our chances
Because God's stopped keeping score
I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us all out to play
Turned his back and all Gods children
Crept out the back door
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above
Say it's much, much too late
Well maybe we should all be praying for time
These are the days of the empty hand
Oh you hold on to what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over
There is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say what's mine is mine and not yours
I may have too much but I'll take my chances
Because God's stopped keeping score
And you cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can't come back
Because he has no children to come back for
It's hard to love there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say
It's much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time
----------------------------------------------------
Мольба
Настало время щедрости в сердцах,
Оно ведь так недолговечно.
Взгляни вокруг - здесь кто-то господин,
А кто-то милостыню просит.
Ах, сколько страждующих в наши дни,
Все это должно было остаться в прошлом
Со всем этим невежеством,
И нелепыми оправданиями.
Богатые уверяют нас в своей нищите,
И многие из нас задаются вопросом:
"А достаточно ли мы имеем благ?"
Но мы не упустим своего шанса,
Ведь Господь больше за этим не следит.
Наверное, когда-то давно
Он как бы выпустил нас погулять во двор,
Затем отвернулся на секундочку и все дети
Улизнули через потайной лаз.
Очень трудно любить, когда столько всего вызывает ненависть,
Верить в надежду,
Когда ее совсем нет.
И слышать, как раненые небеса над головой твердят о том,
Что уже слишком, слишком поздно.
Но, быть может, время принесет утешение.
Настали дни, когда за душой ни гроша,
И нужно как-то жить дальше,
И щедрость - это всего лишь пальто, которое мы надеваем два раза в год.
Сегодня телевидение огрызается на всех людей
Хоть с каким-нибудь достатком, (1)
И ты понимаешь, что здесь, что там -
Везде одно и то же.
Мы негодуем и кричим из за двери своего дома:
"Что мое - то мое! И не трожьте никто!"
Возможно у меня всего достаточно, но я не остановлюсь на этом,
Ведь Господь все равно не видит.
И ты хочешь вцепиться в купленные вещи
И закрываешь глаза в истоме,
Зная, что он не придет,
Ведь у него больше нет детей
Очень трудно любить, когда столько всего вызывает ненависть,
Верить в надежду, когда ее совсем нет.
И слышать как небеса над головой твердят так больно о том,
Что уже слишком, слишком поздно.
Но, быть может, время принесет утешение.
1 - дословно: Это год виновного, Ваше телевидение отстаивает свою позицию These days
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
Hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we take our chances
Because keep stopped score
I guess somewhere along the way
He must have
Turned back
Crept out the back door
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate.
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above
Say it's much, much too late
Well maybe we should be praying for time
These days
Oh you hold on
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over
There is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say what's mine
I may have too much
Because keep stopped score
And you are clinging to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can't come back
Because
It's hard to love
Hanging on to hope
And the wounded skies above say
It's much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time
-------------------------------------------------- -
Plea
It is time for generosity in the hearts
It is so short-lived.
Take a look around - there is someone here,
And someone asks for alms.
Oh, how many who suffer in our day,
All this should have been a thing of the past.
With all this ignorance,
And ridiculous excuses.
The rich assure us of their poverty
And many of us are wondering:
"Do we have enough wealth?"
But we will not miss our chance
After all, the Lord does not follow this anymore.
Probably once upon a time
He kinda let us walk out into the courtyard,
Then turned away for a second and all the kids
Slid away through the secret hole.
It is very difficult to love when so much hate causes,
Believe in hope
When it is not at all.
And to hear the wounded heaven above reiterate
Which is already too, too late.
But perhaps time will bring consolation.
The days have come when the soul is penniless
And you need to somehow live on,
And generosity is just a coat that we wear twice a year.
Today, television is snapping at all people.
Though with any income, (1)
And you understand that there, that there -
Everywhere the same thing.
We are indignant and shout from behind the door of our house:
"What is mine is mine! And do not touch anyone!"
Maybe I have enough, but I will not stop there,
After all, the Lord still does not see.
And you want to cling to the purchased items
And you close your eyes in languor,
Knowing that he will not come,
After all, he no longer has children
It is very difficult to love when so much hate causes,
To believe in hope when it is not at all.
And to hear how the heavens above the head say so painfully that
Which is already too, too late.
But perhaps time will bring consolation.
1 - literally: This is the year of the guilty, your television defends its position
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