Maniaq

Starched white shirts, so neatly pressed by domestic muses
Feed dilusions that everything is working out right,
But your ribs can't withstand increasing weight
As your heart gets heavier and sooner or later,
It falls to the tips of your toes.

And every day tastes like inhaling
When you just lit the wrong end (that plastic burning scent).
Your only friends are on the exit ramps of gridlock caravans.
You try to ask how they've been,
But the metal and glass is too thick.

Antek radzi sie agronoma:
- Mowia, z nawoz sztuczny jest lepszy od naturalnego. A pan jak uwaza?
- Trudno powiedziec, to rzecz smaku.

Losowe piosenki:
FüR Immer
All Balls Don't Bounce
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Memory Like That
Close
When I Hit The Brakes
If You Keep On