Kat - Bez pamięci [Rarities]

Sometimes he walks down my street...
Strange that alone
Without friends like you
His face raised to the nimbus
To my windows he shouts "Bread!"

Sometimes he walks down my street...
In a long habit he slipped
For no reason, like you
His face raised to the nimbus
Shouts "Hearts of wood!"

Wrecked to dust
By people
They worship the wheel...
To make it go faster
I hear echoes of this game sometimes

Wrecked to dust
By people
They worship the wheel...
To make it go faster
The era of glass sings for a miserable life

Sometimes he walks down my street...
In his hands he has
Two little ones like dust
Will sixteen years, mother, give you strength
When father is not with you?

Wrecked to dust
By people
They worship the wheel...
To make it go faster
I hear echoes of this game sometimes

Wrecked to dust
By people
They worship the wheel...
To make it go faster
The era of glass sings for a miserable life

The dance of the people around the candles
Hard, hard they trample
They're covering up people's vices
They died at the very bottom
Without memory we lived with them

Sometimes I hide
My eyes full of tears in my hands
Scared like a wolf
Maybe for the world raised to the nimbus,
We are too small but still will give us
An old glass house to try