Republika - Biała flaga

Where are they?
All of my friends-ends-ends-ends-ends-ends
They're missing
Though there were always few of them-em-em-em-em-em

They've hidden
In various dark institutions-tions-tions-tions-tions-tions
They've been consumed
By galloping prostitution-tion-tion-tion-tion-tion

Where are my friends
Warriors from those days
There were always few of them
Now I'm alone

Who is this man?
In those cultured glasses
How he tries to sit nicely and articulate
Oh, what a tone, what a bow
What faith in every sentence
And what wise convictions-ctions-ctions-ctions-ctions-ctions

Where are my friends
Warriors from those days
There were always few of them
Now I'm alone

Here they are, here they all are
My friends from many places
What a march, what a beautiful step
Marching arm in arm straight ahead
And in flip-flops, in suits
With pajamas under their arms
With positions, with taxes, and with white flags
The crowds of them are coming, crowds of them
Crowds of them, crowds of them
Crowds of them, crowds of them
Crowds of them…

Where are they
Where are they
They're missing
They're missing

Where are they
They're missing
Where are they
They're missing
Where are they
They're missing
Where are they
They're missing

Where are they
Where are they
They're missing…

Where are they, they, they, they
They, they, they, they, they, they, they, they…