Kult - Celina

This storm of hair, everyone knows, a shaky hand near the lips
Yes, it's Celina, Celina, Celina, that's who it is
Her laughter rings out like a trumpet-call, as the whole city sleeps
She hasn’t sobered up since Saturday; the party's been going four days deep
And she twists and turns, in the lightning of her earrings
On shattered glass beneath her feet

La-la-la! Someone sang in the bar
It’s Black Ziutek drinking gin, Celina's man, a tough star
He's been drinking for four days, downed his hundredth shot
But soon the air left him; death clinical he caught
His face turned pale as wax
Ziutek let go of all his Celina-induced cracks

Take this advice I give to you all today
You can count on your friends; they'll help you in their way
Ziutek’s hangover passed; the gang got him stirred
“Find Celina, you fool, wherever her record player and glass blurred!”
Ziutek didn’t cry; he’s tough as stone
For an hour, he howled madly, all alone

Yes, yes, yes! Celina’s scrap metal now
Black Ziutek with killers heads to Celina’s house somehow
The glint of their scythes lights the way through the square
Golden watches under cuffs tick seconds in the air
And they stand on guard,
At the window, in the hallway, by the door – just give the card

Curtains flood with light, the spot shines bright as day
Yes, that’s Celina, Celina, Celina’s sway
Her hands sway too, like exotic flowers in bloom
Celina, naked at the party, in a frenzy of glass and doom
Suddenly, there’s a move
At the door stands Red Mundek, Ziutek’s loyal dude

Clink, clink, clink – glass shatters on the floor
Celina, naked, escapes into the night once more
What a fall! Oh, what a fall!
She only wishes to hide in hell’s call
“Oh, Ziutek, Ziutek, where were you
When I began drinking through and through?
Why didn’t you slap me then?”
But the night stays silent, and only scythes gleam again

Why was Ziutek's scythe’s edge so sharp and steep?
You know these parties—there’s no real harm, no need to weep
But Celina’s voice, her scent of hair
Clouds the mind, tightens fists in despair
Ziutek only raised an eyebrow’s arch
A flash – blood flowed on her white chest, a crimson march

Listen – the world groaned, like a sick dog at its master’s feet
Yes, it’s Celina, Celina, Celina they bury in the street
Sirens wail in the square, yellow dust on the ground
Blue lights flash as the cops cuff Ziutek without a sound
And from then on, behind the bars
Ziutek and Mundek see the world without Celina’s stars

But sometimes, when it’s night, Ziutek strains his ear
Yes, it’s Celina, Celina, Celina’s spirit near
So know this song, that I’ve sung to you tonight
It’s just for a laugh, don’t take it as truth, all right?
It’s just a joke, a ballad at best
Forgive me, that’s the end of the jest