Przemysław Gintrowski - Powrót

Faded - the scream, the rattle and the singing.
From the mouth I spit out sticky sand.
Across the desolated steppe,
The cold wind blows,
Here and there a shred,
Or a footprint,
Buried...

Where will I go now that the nations don't exist anymore,
Forgotten by the angels, abandoned in the middle of the road,
There is no one to believe in, no one to love, no one to hate,
And the worlds don't care for me, a dead dusk over my path,
Where once was my paradise...
I want to go back there...
The easiest way...

You're looking for the paradise!
You're looking for the paradise!
On the parting of the roads?!
You're looking for the paradise!
You're looking for the paradise!
The string of your tracks encircles the earth.

I can live alone too,
I can only live myself.
Rebelious thought,
Will gain a free shape,
Here and there a flash,
Or a word's track,
Being discovered.

All the roads now mine, when I know how to come to an agreement,
No storm, silence, drought, will disturb my path,
No horizon ever new, ever new mirage,
But the picture of the world from over the soul's peak watched,
There I climbed today,
I found the paradise,
The paradise without borders.

You are in the paradise,
You are in the paradise,
No crowd ever reached your peak.
You are in the paradise,
You are in the paradise,
Where you hear blood's and thought's calm rhythm...

I am in the paradise,
I am in the paradise,
No crowd ever reached my peak.
I am in the paradise,
I am in the paradise,
Where I hear blood's and thought's calm rhythm...