Writhen Songtext / Lyric

"To get out of smell of mould, to get back on your feet again - let every
god have his day" - and again the leather is black as i lie on fragments of
glass, more broke than ever - no more ti amo - trying not to hate the guts
we all have - 'cause i got the guts and i feel the guilt - now we still hate
it when we play the part of the greek - vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka
vuotaa edelleen - and who swore not to let it out in here just to see the
boots rot away in one's feet - so better ring the bell of whoredom if it
wants to ring, or just forget all perverse offerings - the writhing stays
the same even if you got the guts and you feel the guilt - now we still hate
it when we play the part of the greek - vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka
vuotaa edelleen - minne sattuu ihmiseen - vanhaa suolaa siihen haavaan joka