---

The sect of the white smocks
Spreading its ptomaine poison,
Threatening to everyone who smokes
The breath preceding the death kiss.

Real help? Real hope?
Unbelievable expectations
Regarding their market nature,
At variance with humanity.

The eyes of the man who wants to fill his paunch
Give you some hope.
But in the back of your mind you know
The vanity of his action.

They gave the oath of a hypocrite,
Blinking of sirens – pandemonium!

You’re the altar of vultures,
Stirring in their feeding trough!
They’re the vultures on altar,
Used to be your home.

When they begin to rule inside your body,
When the dropper is pumping out your money,
Where is a way out?
Drugs mist your mind and dreaming cannot help you,
Mercy sister smiles, know that you’re on death bed;
Just a single shout
Stimulates your body to work out
Energy of life.

The idea of angels and saviors
Doesn’t blend with the market.

They gave the oath of a hypocrite,
Blinking of sirens – pandemonium!

I don’t want – it would be the last thing I see:
White smock, bending over me!

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.