Господи, помилуй это дерьмо, Которое льется из уст проповедников, Праведников... Ведь они совсем не знают тебя... Они сделали из тебя какого-то урода...
We've taken all you've given Yet it's gettin' hard to make a livin' Mr. President have pity on the working man We ain't asking you to love us You may
Be gracious to me o God In Thy true love In the fullness of Thy mercy Blot out my misdeeds Create in me a pure heart o God Give me a new and steadfast
Well, I grew up wild and free Walkin? these fields in my bare feet There wasn?t no place I couldn?t go With a 22 rifle and a fishing pole Well, I live
. Pieta, Signore, Signor, pieta di me dolente! Se a te giunge il mio pregar; volgi i tuoi sguardi su me Signor. Pieta, Signore, di me dolente! Signor
We've taken all you've given But it's gettin' hard to make a livin' Mr. President have pity on the working man We ain't asking for you to love us You
Fire is my brother Sword is my friend Blood is my lover Death is my Destiny
Перевод: Бочелли, Андреа. Помилуй, Господи.
Перевод: Рэнди Ньюман. Г-н Президент (пожалейте рабочего человека).
Перевод: RIFF. Помилуй от Него, Господа.
