Úsměv pana Lloyda [English translation]

Just as a good hockey coach has to chew (out),

so no make-up can help my face anymore.

We're both swimming in this age,

don't worry, love, better being in you than in my hand.

It's in fashion to dissect and sew up Mr. Freud,

then walk among idiots with Harrold Lloyd's smile.

They dig it for a while and the ego grows,

rushing to put together a poem but managing only Lego.

Slam it in me,

bleed me out,

give me back my mind

and what's left of it.

Nobody knows anything,

only a few suspect,

one approves it

and another takes it back.

I'm tired of talking crap, my back is sore from lying,

I open your pickles and so you love me.

I stare at breasts of others when I'm walking my dog,

men do stuff like that until they start to lose their worth.

Slam it in me,

bleed me out,

give me back my mind

and what's left of it.

Nobody knows anything,

only a few suspect,

one approves it

and another takes it back.

Having and idiot's haircut just because it's 'in',

earning money, spending it and birthing loads of children,

well, we have it the same as the better part of the world,

you can't judge me, only he has the right of veto.

Slam it in me,

bleed me out,

give me back my mind

and what's left of it.

Nobody knows anything,

only a few suspect,

one approves it

and another takes it back.

• Artist:Kabát
• Album:Corrida