Оригинален текст
Endless tension , walking corpses
You see in their faces sad frustation
Cops are hitting , cars are crashing
And piles of people are sucking smog
1. And I die slowly in this grave
My grave , in wich millions will die
The glasscases are showing fashions
While beggars beg for a piece of bread
Busses are filled with human masses
And a dog4s crushed by the wheels
2. And I cry surrounded by stress
and I think , How can I live in this mess?
Chorus:
And the hate is growing high,
And the city grows to the sky,
We're just some little scums,
Trapped in our own pretty tomb