Heaven and Nietzsche

There’s nobody interesting in heaven And I’d like to add: it’s full of kitsch, too Yet I hope our souls will stay entwined And we will break into it non-violently. None of us tended to violence We, too, needed something to believe in So we came to believe in firearms And the surprise effect was at our command We were left outside alone, we had to Shoot our way in like the Mašín brothers Sorry, they did not want to let us in This is the reason why heaven had to die! Heaven died, it’s clear now to everyone In the beginning was the Word, at the end is the Spam The Spam is meaningless – and we believed in it Thus we destroyed heaven, we killed it. Heaven died, ran out of strength At this sacred moment, by the irony of fate We’ve reached the aim, honey, as we promised We killed heaven because we believed in it. Father, forgive me, I feel awkward in front of you But the warranty period of heaven has expired I wish I was a model obeying soul That treats everyone in a non-violent way. Once angels have developed in the womb And clasped their hands in the foetal position They began to flirt with death meritoriously When you gaze into an abyss, it also gazes into you. With gross violence you break into heaven Keep the last bullet for yourself One angel has fallen, his wing is broken Hush, my little brother, it’s only heaven dying.

Joe Didn’t Cover His Back

Joe didn´t cover his back because he hadn’t been betrayed yet Each viper waits until it can inject the poison. Joe didn´t cover his back, he had relied on his friend Everyone has the patience of a saint, which is a barrel of gunpowder. And each of us has at least one friend, who ignites the flame underneath the barrel. Everyone has his own “Munich”, it makes you shoot your head off Or you end up on the cross or you will be thrown to the mob. Joe wanted to reconcile himself with God But God betrayed him again both by word and deed And so Joe grasped a stone – and amen. Humiliation is more than murder But if you really wish to hurt someone, you must betray. Grasp a stone – and amen. Take a walk on the wild side And when you drop dead we’ll meet on the other side.

Just Get Tougher

Who loves to provoke has always been in the right I intend to serve a pretty strong stuff now One should accept insults gratefully Each insult should be rewarded rightly Hate comments always get most likes Just get tougher, it'll be alright Nobody gives a fuck about cute comments So give your like to any insult and share it I like to provoke and be abusive, It’s part of healthy lifestyle Humour should not be kind, it must make your blood boil And the better it is the more people it pisses off Let blood boil, make your friends mad Let anger and roar resonate Let blood boil, make your friends mad Go ahead I love to annoy people and I hope I am good at it I love to annoy people It is always necessary to make trouble in the first line I make trouble ergo I live Experience need not be pleasant, it must hurt Open wounds are asking for salt

Mistakes You Make Only Once

To piss off her fella This bitch kissed me the French way She smelled of absinth, she loved pure stuff Unfortunately there was also a taste of poison Her fire should have warned me, Mistakes teach you to do mistakes again and again Love is eternal, she whispered to me But this one was finished before it even started. Who is looking at the other side of the grass Will not appreciate this kind of humour Whether it’s poison or bullet, Some mistakes are repeated by boys all over The last light I saw was fire and gunshot The same fire by which she heated me up. To piss off her fella This bitch kissed me the French way. And she gave the impression that she was worth it I stopped to control myself and it was a mistake The guy who was there with her didn’t like this flirt Love is eternal, that’s what I thought But this one took only two gunshots There are nights when things take fast momentum There are mistakes you make only once Her heart banged on my chest Like a boxer till it killed me Her fire should have warned me, Mistakes teach you to do mistakes again and again Love is eternal, but a beast, its history is written by the victors.

Friendship Sparked Up Between Us

Friendship sparked up between us, but you've promoted foul trick to art My karma resembles used toilet paper, but my character is straight Joe told me: “Take care of him, and I mean TAKE CARE, I hope you understand May God be my witness, we’ll settle this bill without witnesses, that’s how we do it.” It doesn’t matter in which sign you were born, only in which sign you betrayed me Friendship sparked up between us, but you spat on the spark and extinguished it I will make the last sign of the cross on your forehead and I want you to feel pain No remorse any more, this affair of us is over and I want you to feel pain Friendship sparked up between us, and we’ll never know what it would be like if… A fighting breed of moths circle in my skull, at the moment I let them out I’ll part with you Friendship sparked up between us, you spat on it and extinguished it Anger of lovelorn romantic gnaws in my heart and I kind of know who fed it up there It doesn’t matter in which sign you were born, only in which sign you began to plan betrayal Friendship sparked up between us, but now it’s away – the victim was strangled from behind.

Dark Sounds Must Get Out of Me

Drop of poison circulates in veins despite prayers Heading for heart chambers reliably and cheerfully I lay mines without remorse, saints are slitting their wrists I tortured my muse to death, pain is sexy like everything you fear Evil notes, dark sounds must get out of me, my scars are the score Play to it, trample fire down and in dark wait for redemption There’s enough space in the world for those with perverted taste You’ll find the weak in each herd by means of poetry of rough force I have my own story written in poison, too, which will break my neck one gorgeous night When you hear a screaming in the dark, don’t stop, someone is not coming home tonight.

Wet Dreams about Death*

Go to sleep as a man With hunter’s passion grasp you knife And enjoy your wet dreams about Death After all, Death is a woman and you are a man. You court her as a man Her soft power seized your hard soul Desire of man is behind everything And you wanted to get to know her as a man. Death doesn’t sleep with us any more This shouldn’t have happened to us This is what it shouldn’t be like Man should have feelings for Death. So give me a sign how you want it and how it should be So that your body could get what it wanted before the last breath Enjoy your wet dreams about Death as yesterday We’ll go to meet her – in the footsteps of blood. Pure love, holy feeling Man should have something to live for Man should take it purely romantically At least this is how it should have been You wish to seduce her as a man You naturally have feelings for her And enjoy your wet dreams about Death After all, Death is a woman and you are a man. Man should have feelings for Death Man should have something to live for Death has never hurt anybody At least this is how it should have been. (* In Czech, gender of Death is feminine.)

Celestine Bought a Battered Old Gun

The world looks nastier than how it’s seen by Celestine, my pure soul She sees halo over each of us, she has always been sure about that But fate likes to put such people in your way, who easily change your nature So for her last money Celestine bought an old battered gun So for her last money Celestine bought an old battered gun That guy didn’t ask any questions and gave her thirty live bullets as a bonus Fate likes to put such people in your way, who easily change your nature So for her last money Celestine bought an old battered gun There are thing that shouldn’t have happened to us, Celestine, my faithful soul The wind is favourable, but not for us, our star will turn black Fate likes to extinguish a million of stars before it loads live bullets for you The earth trembled and you put a cold gun barrel in my mouth instead of altar bread

The Creator Suffers from a Creativity Crisis

Adios, life was an interesting experience But the screenplay of my one is dangerously close to rubbish Its poor level is given by the quality of the author Because the current work of the Creator is a literary trash This stupid series, each sequel, has pursued the only aim from the beginning His sloppy style taught me to curse the day I was born Endless dose of fake sentiment, hormones of happiness work happily Overacted emotions are received with gratitude, audience loves them The Creator suffers from a creativity crisis and has pursued the only aim from the beginning The Creator suffers from a creativity crisis, taught me to curse the day I was born We play the Russian roulette with machine gun, bound and bonded by blood The Creator suffers from a creativity crisis, I am the victim, He’s the killer Adios, life was an interesting experience and I recommend it to those who’d like to develop their style It may move you up both mentally and physically, but I am sceptical about its deeper meaning I wanted a powerful story that grips you, with a strong message, dark and deep I got miserable actors, trivial dialogues, a naive plot And while I am forced to watch stories which build on the best movie tradition My own story is a failure, considered by reviewers the worst film ever made.

Kissed by Knife

Night turns pale with fear when it learns the name you give it My breath is a moth attracted by darkness, not by light My goodness, kisses of knife leave blood-red lipstick marks on my body Red roses burst out from pale skin, count them like stars before we fall asleep Count stab wounds on my body, count them on my body The last one is left for you, the last stab wound is for you I don’t want any eye-witnesses when I knock my god off You were my first one, take these stab wounds from me instead of roses Kisses give shivers, are killers praying at dreamless nights when moths come closer? Kisses give shivers, are killers singing love songs when they are waiting in darkness? Count stab wounds on my body, count them on my body The last one is left for you, the last stab wound is for you.

Gods Come to People

With the Bible on the table he loaded his guns Then he went out, righteously indignant He made bullet holes in heads of people with different faith Bell ringing in the church tower invited the pious to the hunt Believing souls unleashed their chase They were in the right, Lord, give them the glory He pursued his pious aim, he did away with everyone, From the old to babies, and took it for the evidence of God's existence We live with faith in our souls Gods come closer to people He started to spread the word of God, his principles were strong He put faith over reason, put the crowns of thorns on our heads

We are the Losers

We are the losers, my friend And we’ll keep on fighting till the end We are the losers, we are the losers No time for the champions 'Cause we are the losers of the world... ...my friend, this is the end.