500 [English translation]

Five hundred songs and nothing to say

The sky is turning into a locked cage

Same old words on a different paper

A comical verse for those falling in an elevator

A hurricane sweeps through the empty town streets

My motherland is devouring her sons like a pig

With the inevitability of a supersonic hand drill

Hands in the gloves are rocking the cradle

Candles are burning from both ends

Dead are burying their own dead

Hey, anyone remembers the man on the cross?

Righteous men are tripping on acid like the bros

Every time they remind me of justice for all

I remember that body bags reflect positively on their payroll

The Yellow Submarine is helmed by the mummies

The Ferris Wheel is revealing the qualities of a meat grinder

The patriotism is dumbed down to killing an infidel

This crack is going through my heart as well

Murky waters are hiding the ends

Dead are burying their own dead

I suddenly feel like a negative film in the sun

Fury in my heart, metal taste on my tongue

Our happiness is assembled in Poland and Hong Kong

No good name befits us any longer

There is a time bomb in every young sprout

We walk down the staircase, that goes straight down

Tied up bird cannot be singing

Falling in the elevator are getting a good feeling

The dogs choked up from the howling

We were not taught to live, we were taught to die trying

Two can play this game, my darling

Two can play this game, my darling