I'm returning to Warsaw by express
I left her at the hotel saying 'I'm off, 'cause I've got business'
Every problem I had is now expired
I'm returning to music if the airwaves are still mine
A year and a half and my PESEL is still known to you
Everyone around is forever making a fuss
You asked where Fifi was, he was hidden on the coast
I spent the whole summer there licking my marble wounds
In my head, two different worlds are clashing
I want to be outside the mainstream, but the ghost of platinum tempts me
On one hand, I'd like to be moved again someday writing raps
On the other, I'd like to make cash, and feel basically nothing but that
I came up with a new project
That'll crush my writer's block and crush the walls in my head
But now I'm sitting in the dining car with a cup of train station swill
Afraid that I'll never forget the scent of your skin
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train, if you're not at the station
And the melody cuts off like the St. Mary's Trumpet Call
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train if you're not at the station
People in love want pathos
I try to be down-to-earth and I have a way
I won't tell you your presence is a gift from fate
Or the song of skylarks, or a f*cking lotus flower
In the morning, the smell of a proper coffee
Short sleeves on a summer day, the smell of mown grass
A full tank, an empty road, a series of green lights
A song on the radio by one of your underrated bands
A long weekend for those drowned in the corporate world
When everyone around sounds bland, I still drink in your voice
Like the crackle of vinyl in the morning
The sound of a downpour pounding on the concrete
Drumming on the panes, when you fall asleep alone or with a woman
When you wake up at dusk, you feel a moment of anxiety
You grab your jacket, everything's there: wallet, keys, phone
And her hair smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train, if you're not at the station
And the melody cuts off like the St. Mary's Trumpet Call
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train if you're not at the station
The express train is heading for a stop
Warsaw center, nobody's waiting for me at the station
Incognito, when I don't have a beard
Don't look for me on the internet, there are probably no posts there
My words are always modest, there are probably no ornaments there
Good intentions, there are probably no thorns there
Life changed when I started singing in Polish
Now I have to run, see you on the wax
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train, if you're not at the station
And the melody cuts off like the St. Mary's Trumpet Call
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
Today the air smells like the last days of summer vacation
Rain on the concrete, rain on the concrete
Your skin smells like the last days of summer vacation
What's the point of this train if you're not at the station