When Yahweh is talking to you from a bottle of gin
and encourages you to action, you will turn to machine,
which lazily ends in crotch
girls, which flirt with you, you get caught in web.
You don't know it's 'cause of nonsense or rum,
or wine, whether you're in Cologne
or in Prosetín (little czech city) and in the last hundredth
second you rip duvet
of the forest and fall down
Maybe it's caused by booze
maybe itš caused of the weith on your shoulders.
Even in this summer heat sometimes it chills you
and you propagate new motto
ecstasy against sadness and fear
and throw her into the thicket
and you are cudding up together naked...
You're touching her tits, falling into sweet narcosis,
feeling like Ozzy Osbourne, like Jason Bourne,
like agent without identity,
like somebody who means something.
And than it goes really fast,
all in all without embellishing, penetration and
and inhale and exhale
and now you already know what comes
Moral sex and oral hangover,
behind finish straightway the real world begins
Moral sex and oral hangover,
medicine in the morning turns into poison.
A taste of sorrel on the palate,
calling for hair of the dog,
so go get high and let those sentences,
that you feel you awake and tomorrow it will be different.
Again comes the next night and the next hangover.
You get a few more numbers and than even telephone
you know you don't drop-call her
and as soon as you're not in her
you're depressing again.
This is the worldly fame,
crushed field grass and a girl, what gives
and takes more than you offered
and you do not know how to feel - cool or like an asshole.
You wonder you don't wanna be a slave of own desires
and using services
of every fan, which give you immediately,
like in that song from Honza Nedvěd (czech folk singer),
where he acted as a pudding and you feel sorry for him,
for a few puffs on weed for a few nights of desire,
this is stupid,
but for this situation it fits.
You're looking in her eyes, you feel like Ivan Vyskočil (czech actor and writer), when he met Anife* tell her that it's not fair, how the world understand you
and you pull two rubbers out of the pocket.
It's the longing for, it's just a reflex,
drinks off and banal sex
and anal speech
and you know it won't be better.
Comes again
Moral sex and oral hangover,
behind finish straightway the real world begins
Moral sex and oral hangover,
medicine in the morning turns into poison.
A taste of sorrel on the palate,
calling for hair of the dog,
so go get high and let those sentences,
that you feel you awake and tomorrow it will be different.
Again comes the next night and the next hangover.
"On the one hand one of your algae
I look into the darkness "
You sing her shit
what someone wrote to some other girl,
telling her she smells good
and it's dawning to you and still you wanna pick her up,
invigorated by spritzer in pursuit of ejaculation.
On stage you maybe Elvis
in Levis jeans
even from season sale
and you're waving around self-confident words.
Want about a faith in yourself, you are Doubting Thomas
and still you need to prove yourself you have what it takes
and so you armed with iambs and trochees
chase after another trophy.
Kissing her on the cheek, you're changing into Michal Pavlíček (czech guitarist and composer)
You are Karel Gott (famous czech singer) soaked of her sweat
You sre bohemian who is demigod
and bid your principels farewell!
You use coitus to put you problems off
this method works, you're Paľo Habera (famous slovak singer)
you tell her: "Come on baby to bed,
today I admit you to my Team (name of Habera's band)!"
After that comes
Moral sex and oral hangover,
behind finish straightway the real world begins
Moral sex and oral hangover,
medicine in the morning turns into poison.
A taste of sorrel on the palate,
calling for hair of the dog,
so go get high and let those sentences,
that you feel you awake and tomorrow it will be different.
Again comes the next night and the next hangover.