Alcoholism

I'm not one of those who believe in fate
I'm not one of those who search for fleeting pleasures
I am ordinary nobody, I'm late everywhere
I'm not one of those who live up to the old
I don't try to explain my dreams
I get only fits of fatigue from them
The fear of death often visited me
I'm not one of those who live to be old
The sticky grayness of everyday life
I'm terrified by how disgusting my thoughts are
I don't wait for anything, I'm late everywhere
I'm not one of those, who live to be old
Nightingale has a nice song
A song of requiem for my head
It blossomed dissipated, it grew as for knife-making
And now suddenly it hung down, like lifeless
Thoughts, my thoughts! Pain in temples and crown
I have spent my youth prematurely, untimely
How it happened, how it came by, I do not understand myself
At night I press a hard pillow against my heart
Go flowing, sonorous song, pour out a sad thrill
In the dark it seems to me I embrace my sweet
Drink, sing in your youth, hit your lives without a miss
Anyway, your beloved one once will fade out like a cherry
I faded away, don't know where, in the drinking may be? Or in the glory?
They liked me in my youth, and now they have left me
That's why the nightingale's song is nice
A song of requiem for my head
You're nonentity, you're nothing
You drank everything away