Edyta Geppert - Chwalcie potęgę pieniądza

Fortune favors the richman
And misfortune without end
Blows wind in the poorman's ears
And golden apples to the other

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

The richman always scates
Even if he were drowning in shit
No matter how low he sank
The Guardian Angel rescued him

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

For the poorman the dungeon
And police, and hard blows
From a stick will flay his back
They will not anoint, only bury

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

Gold, heaven and honors
A full gut, a sated life
Friends and mirth
When one has ducats aplenty

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

One who was poor will stay poor
Live like a maggot, die like a pauper
They'll bury him by the fence
Sell his soul to the devil

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

Had you raped, had you sinned
Had you put a knife through someone
Had you shit on a dignitary
With cash you will slide

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

Had you lived a life of virtue
Not for you the heights of of heaven
From the gates of paradise they will chase you
For they cannot bear the stench of your misery

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

And God also favors the richman
For him annuls His commandment.
Leads him on as if by the hand
Once to luxuries, once to gonorrhea

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money

Just this once the poorman goes whoring
Right away they torture him, rip off his head
The richman from whorehouse to whorehouse
Goes happily and in good spirit

Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money
Praise the might of money