Kat & Roman Kostrzewski - Kapucyn zamknął drzwi

If paradise?
Then this hall
The sticks, the ghosts of candles
Eyes glazed with misery
He had his Camelot
A psalm in his mouth
And blood on his hands

Poverty loved him
Lewa Street
- Potatoes, rags!
A ride, a whip
From the heap, a slick ass
Hoodies from the tree
Oma grave, opa grave
Mom's pit

Poverty buried him
Szczera Street
The priest is coming
And he, a child
Adoration, ice
- Dick

The shadow of towers, the cold park
Above the gate, an old bell
And the cross... like a scarecrow
Darkness is coming
- Our lord is a treasure
King of dreams, trust me
The moan ends the tale
The Capuchin closed the door

They chose him with a chorus
Sweetly fuck it
Evangelically here and there
The bishop's monastery was...
Prayer, stick
You give him, you give him...
Or punch him in the face

The shadow of towers, the cold park
Above the gate, an old bell
And the cross... like a scarecrow
Darkness is coming
- Our lord is a treasure
King of dreams, trust me
The moan ends the tale
The Capuchin closed the door

Virtue of the soul foretells hell
It strikes the mother's womb with a knife
This one’s water flows with revenge
White-golden, it melts asses

From the pulpit, they curse

- The Lord gave, the Lord took
The barn loses its uprightness
- The Lord gave, the Lord took
And the sheep with it
Eh, and the holy ones in the water too?

Where God smells like a donkey
And the people wade in the sewage
The reverend trills with his mouth
And farts in the throne with his sphincter

And it will be your downfall
Slavs hunted
From his "grace," a traitor
"Pisbollah" - his guard
In the war for sin, power, and...
It has already risen
Not an eagle
After all, they saw the wreck