To fry your heart on the pan
To rob it with the boling oil
To fried off all the bitterness
Which hruts so mercilessly.

Sorrow is a shy bitch
Which suckes so fiercefuly
Dosen´t want anything
But the burning pain.

To fry your heart on the pan
To rob it with boiling oil
To pour out it´s funny contrnts
To melt the bleeding wounds

To pay the debts to pain
To dominate all over her
Beat out the last sorrow
With the thought out hammer.