More songs by FACE
Description
Love is like a pill - sweet to the taste, but with side effects. It goes down easily, but then you feel dizzy, as if from too much air and lack of sleep. I want to believe for just a moment that the antidepressant is right there - not from a pharmacy, but made of flesh, a gaze, and a faint scent of perfume. The realisation that there won't be reciprocated love no longer hurts - it just hums quietly under the skin, like a tram outside the window at night. Everything around looks like it was shot on an old VHS tape - headlights, an empty highway, a "beamer" with a plastic Paris Hilton in the passenger seat. A little awkward, a little sad, but somehow truly real. There's despair and tenderness in this rhythm, and that strange honesty where instead of confessions, there's a plea: just be medicine, even for a little while.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Среди тревог и вечной грусти стань мне антидепресантом.
Позволь любить себя, допустим.
Любить меня в ответ не надо. Ты можешь не любить совсем.
Позволь с тобой быть просто рядом.
Среди тревог и вечной грусти стань мне антидепресантом, стань мне антидепресантом, стань мне антидепресантом, стань мне антидепресантом, стань мне антиде--
Я боюсь, что умру, не коснусь твоих губ.
Знаешь, кто, о ком пою?
Я в нее влюблен и не могу сказать люблю. Прыгаю в бумер, рядом Пэрис Хилтон.
Конечно же, не настоящая, а только с виду.
Она любит кокер, делает дороги, а я все прощаю ей за длинные ноги.
Среди тревог и вечной грусти стань мне антидепресантом. Позволь любить себя, допустим.
Я не прошу любви обратной.
English translation
In the midst of anxiety and eternal sadness, become my antidepressant.
Let yourself be loved, for example.
You don't need to love me back. You may not love at all.
Let me just be with you.
In the midst of anxiety and eternal sadness, become my antidepressant, become my antidepressant, become my antidepressant, become my antidepressant, become my antidepressant...
I'm afraid that I will die without touching your lips.
Do you know who I’m singing about?
I'm in love with her and I can't say I love her. I jump into the boomer, next to Paris Hilton.
Of course, not real, but only in appearance.
She loves cocker, makes roads, and I forgive her everything for her long legs.
In the midst of anxiety and eternal sadness, become my antidepressant. Let yourself be loved, for example.
I'm not asking for love back.