It's my ghetto no matter how endlessly cold you are
I can't escape you
This is my ghetto no matter how far I run I can't leave you, even if a day passes
When the sound of rain becomes calmly absorbed in my mind
This city swallows all the calmness in my life, today's the same
Politics, every law, it's only the friends of those who see light
Even their speeches are shit to my ears so stop those shiny cars
Reason is, I'm a deaf outlaw, the eyepatch that are the commoners has no light so it's frightening
Subways, buses, and taxis only make me sigh and regret; the feet that move me are heavy with worry
The sweat and soul that's in the voice of the spectators that cut my arrogant neck
The guest of the city's morning in orange colored clothes, whether you're green or decayed
Fake flowers that have no scent, the figure that's only a building- it only enhances my greed in this stench filled gutter
This city that's wrapped in pure white by truth and sweat should be in my hand
South of the river where they're collapsing from overeating comfort, the Han River that's the dead end of the flow of a dream's ocean
Tonight the greed of those say they're rich burn, in the short moment that love explodes in full speed
the meeting of deposits, lets defend the 'latter' and the 'former', with the governing of the CEOs of the high, modern Tower of Bael
the city is just a production of money, even if the sky rains tears of blood from being being stabbed with greed
even the city's planners want to confront nature and expand the land, lowering the sky of their ancestors
If we swallow the bud of the souls, then who's going to plant their dreams here? Even if we take it to the court,
the judge would just take the money of the richest...in the square that's court, politics, capital, and work
In the desert that's communication things keep on being corrupted, the city should be in our hands
The city is rats and menaces, cracks and crevices, pitch black where heaven is, a better past I reminisce
my nemesis - ghetto tenements and fellow residents, yellow vents spit out relevant criminal evidence
speech and action, the important thing's the latter, politics and the rich switching with laborers
stock that have soared from bickering equal the number of warriors who have fallen due to struggle and competitiveness