The whole street suddenly stops
when he asks me, what i've got in the basket
I say that I do not know
that in general, why do you even care,
My tongue is spangled,
legs are bending under me,
He says that his mother doesn't buy a bread
but bakes it herself.
In past always drunk,
now she's got a smile on her face,
she bakes a bread, about death she no longer...
about death she no longer dreams
He grabs me by the hand,
he looks at me in a weird way.
He comes so close
touches my face,
squeezes my hand,
slippery with sweat ,
his breath is burning.
You wouldn't guess, that his mother with a bad condition
landed in the ICU ,
She'll stay here for awhile
tomography don't bode well,
and a good bread machine covers itself with dust
I would sold it really cheap,
add free overlay and recipe book
You'd bake a bread
You wouldn't need to go to the Żabka so often
Since then, I do nothing, but bake,
Until the loaves reaches to the ceiling
I baked walls, chairs and paintings from bread
instead of tears, crumbs roll on my...
my face ,
my face ,
about death I no longer dream
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