A keresés eredménye

A Small Country with a Moustache

A small country with a moustache
Half a pin on the map of the world
An actor bangs on a table
Soon we'll feel it here
 
A small country with a robe
We're the cork at the bottle's opening
You need to swallow exactly one spoonful
Before the elections and between a hiccup and a yawn
 
All the places are holy
The chances of succeeding are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day
 
A small country with some spice
And most of its people are spies
Everything's ready for sale
Everything is visible through the keyhole
 
A small country with a clock
Moving at a snail's pace
The arms dealer builds himself a palace
This country is a 'he' in first person
 
All the places are holy
The chances of succeeding are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day
 
A small country with a moustache
Half a pin between Saudi Arabia and the sea
A banana peel on the map of the world
 
All the players are foreigners
Judges whipping out a red card
Even the days themselves say
That it gets harder every day
 
A small country with a moustache
Half a pin on the map of the world
An actor bangs on a table
Soon we'll feel it here
 
A small country with a robe
We're the cork at the bottle's opening
You need to swallow exactly one spoonful
Before the elections and between a hiccup and a yawn
 
All the places are holy
The chances of succeeding are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day
 
All the places are holy
The chances of finding a spot are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day
 
A banana peel on the map of the world
 
All the places are holy
The chances of succeeding are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day
 
All the places are holy
The chances of finding a spot are slim
Even the days are hard
Getting harder each day, day, day...
 

A Rare Species

We are scared of our own shadow,
Clinging to the walls of our homes
And most of the time we are ashamed of our bodies,
Digging shelters.
 
We flee from a crazy party,
Forced into rowboats.
Each land is a drowning ship
When you dig shelters.
 
We are a rare species: a strange bird.
Our dreams are in the air, our head's in the ground.
 
We deceive ourselves mostly.
Not blind, but not looking.
And it's unclear what we'll leave behind,
Aside from our fears.
 
We are a rare species...