Mięso [English translation]

[Bridge]

I sit at Plan B1 on my own for two hours

You were supposed to be my wife but there's still nothing new

Three hours at Plan B on my own

You were supposed to be my wife but there's still nothing new

[Verse 1]

Life is a bunch of nonsense but I'd like mine to be rare2

You don't pick up the phone so I'm sending letters

It stopped raining already and worms are slithering into the city

They're probably all going on a date with you, those cunts

My once healthy lungs are now whistling

Rattling, buzzing, whistling, I drank gin before visiting the internist

I keep telling him about the lung but he doesn't want to listen to me

Tells me: "Son of a bitch, go away"

Healthy brain keeps producing bad dreams

And memories chase me like that verse from "Crybaby"3

I gave you unique things like those Peweksy4

But now you call me an "ex-guy"

I don't have you, I don't have anything, only those lyrics

That keep biting eachother in my notebook like rabid dogs

Tiny bit away from madness, cold and dirt in the brain

And my heart is shaking like an epileptic

[Bridge]

So many hours at Plan B on my own

You were supposed to be my wife but there's still nothing new

[Chorus]

Life is:

Race through space. Some tears, sometimes bliss

And then: a sticky cobweb in an empty wallet

Life is:

Race with flags between barricades

While death is chasing and yelling "Stop, citizen!"

Open your briefcase please (okay)

Tell us your PESEL5 please (hmm, okay)

Please don't worry about the world or your own existence

Please remember that there's no soul, you're just a piece of meat

Tell us your PESEL please

[Verse 2]

To all the happy people: please stop fucking pissing me off

Because I'm planning to tear something off of every single happy person

And all those pretty teeth will roll down the pavement

If you keep shining them at me, fucking hell!

It's not a comedy, Antigone is meant to be your example

Here it's supposed to be a tragedy, an antique choir has to stand nearby

Please, go kill yourselves, seriously I can even give you a rope myself

Or some kind of a rifle, just all of you go sleep in coffins

I don't sleep, I swallow energy drinks

You see, how am I supposed to sleep when I hear those damn yells everywhere?

I hear conversations and sticky vomit from the parties

And there's even a violinist playing under my window, though he's doing quite well...

Besides that I wait, I wait for a call from her

Tobacco spinning in my lungs and concrete running in my veins

My life is running away again, I'm chasing the peloton again

But life is getting faster and it runs away with my woman

Ditch sleeping, leave sleep to the skeletons

I'm waiting for you at Plan B, I'll be waiting here forever

I write, and you say nothing, understand that you hurt and dishonor me

I've just seen you, are you having fun in the city? Kill yourself

I keep waiting, Saviour Square, come and save me

I won't bite or shoot, come and drink with me

After all I can see you're reading what I write

So tomorrow I'll write it all down and send it to the public

[Bridge]

So many hours at Plan B on my own

You were supposed to be my wife but there's still nothing new

[Chorus]

Life is:

Race through space. Some tears, sometimes bliss

And then: a sticky cobweb in an empty wallet

Life is:

Race with flags between barricades

While death is chasing and yelling "Stop, citizen!"

Open your briefcase please (okay)

Tell us your PESEL please (hmm, okay)

Please don't worry about the world or your own existence

Please remember that there's no soul, you're just a piece of meat

Tell us your PESEL please

1. Venue near the Saviour Square (Plac Zbawiciela) in Warsaw2. "Stek bzdur" means "a bunch of nonsense" but "stek" also means "steak". The "I'd like mine to be rare" is about that "steak"3. Beksa by Artur Rojek4. Shops that sold unique items imported from the west in Polish People's Republic 5. Polish ID number

• Artist:Taco Hemingway
• Album:Trójkąt Warszawski