A tough man of lust and the unsated
Like a draught through the mystery of adultery
To cheat your instincts or to obey...
The last runner is close to the finish
The never-ending race
To be carried away by the river of sin
The sweet temptation of instinct
In cosmic masturbation
In the garden of forbidden deeds
Long ago away from the point of devotion
The smell of the plate of sex-starvation
No one can stop, there's no escape
Haunted by the pressure of mind
And decision
We become the slaves of time and age
The never-ending race
The wormy mind of a whore in the expectation
Of good...
The insolence to blame your own life!
Gluttony, still repeated
Like a constantly new racer
On a track of delight and pleasure
Outwardly everything's enchanting and splendid
Vicinity perceives contentment and peace
Like a nice red apple, just the surface
Veiled in the garment of lust and lies
Wormy and invisible mystery inside
A strong point somewhere far away
Not-coming daydreamed life
Like an unattainable branch
If you don't reach it, you'll climb to it
Constant marathon, no one knows how many
Rounds are left to the end
In the crown of the tree of sin and untruth
Apathetic, mislead and nonexistent
To give birth to new lives
Oh, what a sweet scent of sin!
It's so easy to be caught by it
Yearning for the same all the time
In a new dress and with a different face
The race of lust has no end
It's never-ending, everyone's defeated
We're just the slaves, instincts are decisive!