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.