Mondomanila, or: How I Fixed My Hair After a Rather Long Journey Page #3

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nobody will shed a tear for you

even if you manage to escape

the demons will know where to find you.

The madness in your mind

can no longer be forgotten

without knowing it,

you're digging a grave

for the one who stares at you

when you look into the mirror.

Droga

what does this madness mean

can you still escape

when you're trapped in misery

Droga

what does this madness mean

can you still escape

when you're trapped in misery

I wrote this track cause

I live a hard life

I've seen it all and

i'm stuck in the middle

I'm a man who has nothing left to lose

Death's lurking around the corner every day

every day I hope the pain will end

never knowing when death will take me away

I don't want my life to end this way

look to the right, look to the left

i'll be there

I'm sitting in every corner

with the world staring at me

how did it get this far

and how can I get out

Droga

what does this madness mean

can you still escape

when you're trapped in misery

Droga

what does this madness mean

can you still escape

when you're trapped in misery

Droga

what does this madness mean

Take a sip.

Fountain of youth.

Elixir of life

magic potion...

That cures all.

From cholera to heartbreak,

From pimples to cancer,

From bad breath to leprose.

Made only from the

purest, finest minerals.

Straight from the sewers of Mondomanila.

Alkaline, sh*t, piss, cum,

puke, tears, sweat, blood...

Mondomanila's holy drinkwater.

all cure, anti-pure.

No proven scientific function.

Drink moderately.

That's how it is in the slums.

We fight and f*** each other

like raving dogs.

They think we're ambitionless.

That we don't have any plans.

Irresponsible, junkies.

Scrougers, losers...

Freaks, perverts,

a**holes, scumbags...

Evil gossipers,

Shameless thieves.

Worthless.

Devils.

But we're happy.

Even if we're starving.

Even if we're poor.

Even if they don't know we exist, in this

congested, filthy, stinking piece of earth.

We have many problems.

But we ignore them.

You don't make any plans when

your first priority is to get a meal.

We can't count on anyone.

Only ourselves!

We don't have to expect anything

from anyone.

Our f***ing government doesn't give a sh*t

if we slaughter each other.

Everyone's just looking for a way

to get rich.

Politicians love us.

They give us rice and sardines,

as if we can't buy them ourselves.

Old worn out clothes,

for our slender bodies.

Broken toys for the little brats.

And canned food that's passed it's date,

for our empty stomachs.

And also an enormous pile of promises,

that never get realised.

Promises.

A**hole.

You're always drunk or high.

Some day I'll be fed up,

and personally drag you to prison.

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