Writhen

"To get out of smell of mould, To get back on your feet again

Let every god have his day"

And again the leather is black as I lie on fragments of glass

More broke than ever, No more ti amo

Trying not to hate the guts we all have

'Cause I got the guts and I feel the guilt

Now we still hate it when we play the part of the Greek

Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen

And who swore not to let it out in here

Just to see the boots rot away in one's feet

So better ring the bell of whoredom if it wants to ring,

Or just forget all perverse offerings

The writhing stays the same

Even if you got the guts and you feel the guilt

Now we still hate it when we play the part of the Greek

Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen

Minne sattuu ihmiseen

Vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka vuotaa edelleen