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(Cselényi) Dusty town in the windy plain Full of secrets, full of stain I drive my car around the place I feel the scent of better days People say: it’s a dying town I don’t care, I love my home With bitter kisses and dirty hands I dig my way to the very end Forgotten corner in the heart of God Hard work, bar fights, making love Thousand years passed back and forth With shedding blood for shiny gold New born cries just like the wind Reproduction of suffering One more shot and I say a toast To the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost Welcome to my sacred place At the final stop to the other space Put your suitcase down the floor Open up the door! |