Grabaż i Strachy Na Lachy - Pogrzeb Króla

Crime, punishment, sin, a liter of wine
And thus this story begins...

In this room on the gray carpet
A rosary got scattered
My life with fear started
I live with it here under the same roof

And you look through that keyhole...

I had more than one tryst there
With a certain Jacek Kaczmarski
We immersed in life's reaping
Picked raisins from cakes

Breakfast masters?
thus lived our company
Cocaine and crack on the grills
Until a hundred finishes in our mouths

Until one certain Easter day...

And no miracle powder helped
Nor did the widow's four grosze
Hidden for a dark hour
Sewn in a black belt

In another state of possession
He sold his last clothes
To this day, in the King's armory
Hangs his shirt...

And the wind howled as it howled,
In black tulle

At the King's court
It's also getting worse
The Holy Lamps shine with bitter grief in the squares
The gangrene festers
At this court
In a heap of empty inkwells
Diamond goose feathers dry

The nation has kefir for a hangover
Time turns the page...

Into the sea of souls, heads drop like a river
They come from near and far
Where the horizon stairs
Processions stretch

The train carries gifts for the king
A goblet, a tuba, and glasses
New wheels are in the locomotive
The one that goes around

One free place in the back rows
For a certain conductor

The shepherds sing him a hundred years
Four old men in halos
Pulling the airy sleigh
Time to drink to this meeting

And for soul looting
Hare Krishna loot, loot

At the King's court
It's getting even worse
The Holy Lamps shine with bitter grief in the squares
The gangrene festers
At this court
In a heap of empty inkwells
Diamond goose feathers dry

Now let's torment the cat
Before the 3rd verse starts
So pardon me, sir and madam
We'll briefly deceive you...

At the King's court, on crooked tracks
The machine of history slides
On a screen as big as a square
The king's dance with death has stopped and
Only the sages of Zion
Won't talk about it to anyone

Fear has laced their mouths shut
Who...

Who from the car speakers
Will speak to the nation?
If even the one over the king is afraid
Of these people

The message is ruthlessly simple:
Our Lord is sniffing seaweed
The King's eyelids have closed
The Lord has entered the dead river

Why are you staring through that keyhole

You stare through that narrow gap:
Someone snatches the watch from his hand
Pulling the golden coat over his head
They pull out platinum teeth

The dead ring finger itself
The eternal ring extinguished on the finger
Do you see that infernal crowd in the cloakroom???
No one wants to be the last to leave here

They sneak along the wall
Rat by rat
Vulture by vulture

It can't get any worse
At this court
Foreign eagles wander in the halls
The twilights split in two
Sweet God
You know, I have nowhere to go from here...

It can't get any worse
At this court
Foreign eagles wander in the halls
The twilights split in two
Sweet my God
You know, I have nowhere to go from here

Run away...
Run away...
Run away...
Run away...

At the King's court
Sweet God
In a heap of empty inkwells
Diamond goose feathers dried