"Music is what tell us that the human race is greater than we realize". Napoleon Bonaparte

You ask me: what actually makes you stay here
You tell me, there are gray fogs over Poland
You ask me, whether family, or girlfriend
And what, what I shall answer you.

Maybe it's that special color of the sky
Maybe it's all of these years, I've spent here
Maybe it's that wheat scent of bread
Maybe it's those leaning thatch of cottages

Maybe it's destiny, written in the stars
Maybe it's that spring scent of lilac in front of the hut
Maybe it's storks, coming back to their nest
Something, what tells them to come back here

You tell me, people live in a different way
You tell me, somewhere else people have easier life
You tell me, august is short, december is long
You tell me, nights are long, days are short

You tell me, listen, man, you live only once
You tell me, pack up yourself, go abroad
You tell me, wake up and pack up at dawn
Is it worth, keep going up, against the stream?

Maybe it's destiny, written in the stars
Maybe it's that spring scent of lilac in front of the hut
Maybe it's storks, coming back to their nest
Something, what tells them to come back here

Maybe it's music, forgotten long ago somehwere
Maybe it's melody, which plays silently in the heart
Maybe it's mazurkas, maybe Chopin's Waltzes
Maybe it's hope of seeing better days

Poland