I'm putting it in your lap.
MANY WARSHAW
In ruins and canals Their tragic road
A ‘P “ anchored painfully and bloodyly
And do you remember that blood and size
Glass - advanced - fresh – and - bustling - Warsaw !
Did this blood bloom in us with freedom and pride
Squeeze through the years with red plague
Can we watch past bravely
Like these young enemies of death and orders...
Because the alien present teaches us the memory of the uprising
And in them, the hecatomb is inactive on fire.
Those who survived bitterly talk about history
Breaking down among the graves shaking hands
This is 1 of your crosses in your history. Fatherland!
And is this the last 1 on your way?
God, what are you experiencing with the East and the West?
You! Take us with love sometimes
To keep believing you're inactive with us.
And that our sufferings lead to you
Through the crosses that you put on us due to the fact that it's you! You believe us.
Though others and you will betray us again.
Put me down, Lord! Hands on a burning head
I kneel at your knees where your feet are bloody
Because it's not pride, Christ!
I'm putting in your martyr's knees.
IN THE TOWN OF NATIONAL REMEMBER
Above me a harsh inscription - achtung!
Goth springs in sharp arches
I stand in the vestibule of Europe
Black crows above the heart's scum
The Earth's small Underfoot
As long as I go I carry pain
I'm chewing a bitter bread crumb
In memory long whips of bullets
In the shelter national memory
The bowl calls with a silver penny
Cross-bound blood and white
On my chest like a talisman
I stand in the vestibule of Europe
They hurt my heart.
Goth springs in sharp arches
And the father's speech is getting quieter
♪ 'Cause we gave up the most sacred ♪
♪ To a fistful of silver pieces ♪
Naively believing the old executioners
In the democratic magic of disputes
Naively Carrying Our Faith
Like a shaky flame in a storm
The naive 1 with his future
From promises and mirages bodes
The heart will be threatened
Consciousness Like a part of Ice
The death of Lachom is inactive heard
And the cold wind blows from the east
New SS division Galizien
♪ He'll be around us again ♪
Broken black cross and trident
Our heads are falling apart.
In the shelter national memory
The bowl calls with a silver penny
Cross-bound blood and white
On my chest like a talisman I wear...
HONESTLY...
This is not the time to lie to Europe.
I'm staying home, I say no!
This is where we gotta keep our own.
Though they say it's wrong!
I know your homeland doesn't cheat.
And for her all heart's toil
I'll never be a bag
I'm not going to throw land from my lineage
He's not gonna lecture me.
How the Polish home Will Look
For bitter hardship was our faith
For we believed parent tears
Here is our will written in blood
I stay faithful to God at home
Nobody's gonna tell me that
There are no doors in my home anymore.
We were scattered by the wind
And strangers will never save us
Under all cross - my God...
I'm in my memory - he's inactive bleeding...
This is not the time to lie to Europe.
I'm staying home, I say no!
This is where we gotta keep our own.
Though they're loudly saying it's bad!
I'm inactive in front of us.
We've got a fewer years to go.
Stupid Hope - Judas’ Joy
Then only the vulture of conscience
And the rough cord... our...
We've got a fewer years to go.
Stupid fun... Good God!
It's on your knees today.
♪ Though our pride is arrogant Eagle ♪
We've got a fewer years to go.
I owe you - bitter no!
Polish ! what you go where your executioner
The mortal with you is playing
We've got a fewer years to go.
A naive belief in the mercy of the enemy
Who will kick you like a dog
On your own doorsteps
We've got a fewer years to go.
Powerlessness...cry...and...pain...
And back like a burning rose
From loud whips...
We've got a fewer years to go.
Before the sky falls on its head
I hope I'm wrong.
A hunch with a dangerous word!
The chaotic Bird of Freedom
The chaotic bird of freedom is beating in me
I'm inactive suffocating in this country of unfulfilled faith
Where are the crosses? ..crematoriums...crematoriums...crematoriums...crematoriums.
Where the kirem is inactive covered with crying clocks
Every September turns distant the sad face of memory
Don't iron angels cast shadows
Our paths of Decalogue grow in the grass
And they rust the thrown grenades of conscience...
I am going in the direction of Europe today
Through my Fathers, for centuries bones have been rotting
I'm trying to hurt my wings with doubt
The chaotic bird of freedom is crying inside me
'Cause I know we request to keep ours in check.
And keep fertilizing our own land
So that our children don't bend their necks tomorrow
And he didn't hurt like a erstwhile despised silence...
The chaotic bird of freedom is crying inside me
I am inactive suffocating in this country of unfulfilled faith
Where are the crosses... crematoria... tears of birch...
Where Kirem is inactive covered Fatherland clocks...
