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