Our words mean what they mean
A shout is a shout and one means one
We leave metaphors to translators
Who can make seven words from one
We throw out sociologists to the bust
We flush psychologists down the toilet
We left analyses to the police
And let the journalists go praying

Chorus:
Our words are only the pain and joy
which you have in your soul
We have hate for the enemies
And illusion of freedom for our friends  

Don’t find in them that what doesn’t exist
when your stress becomes a chaos
If the wine bottle is breaking
that means there wasn’t wine enough
Another face is your obsession
You want others to think for yourself
Look for the truth in your soul
Don’t go the way which isn’t yours

Chorus:
Our words are only the pain and joy …