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Sometimes when facing common trouble
When whole town is screwed
We become actually human
Act like Prometehus would
Suddenly there is more humor
And a party Tabor style
People ringing one another
'Yo man, how's your blackout?!'
Suddenly there is more music
Made with buckets in a park
Girls are dancing with a flashlights
I got only one guitar
And you see brothers and sisters
All engaged in sport of help
Making merry out of nothing
Like in refugee camp
Woah yeah, woah no
It doesn't have to be so
It is possible any time anywhere
Even without any dough
Oh yeah, woah no
It doesn't have to be so
The forces of creative mind
Unstop-op-op-able
And you think alright now people
They have finally woked up
But as soon as trouble over
Watch them take another nap
Now nobody's making merry
Only trodding scared of boss
Everybody's making hurry
For some old forgotten cause
But one think surely eternal
It's condition of a man
Who don't know where he is going
Who don't know where does he stand
Whose dream power is a bottle
Put away in dry dark place
Whose youth power is well buried
Under propaganda waste
Whose dream life in opposition
To the life during the day
Who's beaten down in believing
It just kind of goes this way
Gogol Bordello
Oh No
Oh No
Sometimes when facing common trouble
When whole town is screwed
We become actually human
Act like Prometehus would
Suddenly there is more humor
And a party Tabor style
People ringing one another
'Yo man, how's your blackout?!'
Suddenly there is more music
Made with buckets in a park
Girls are dancing with a flashlights
I got only one guitar
And you see brothers and sisters
All engaged in sport of help
Making merry out of nothing
Like in refugee camp
Woah yeah, woah no
It doesn't have to be so
It is possible any time anywhere
Even without any dough
Oh yeah, woah no
It doesn't have to be so
The forces of creative mind
Unstop-op-op-able
And you think alright now people
They have finally woked up
But as soon as trouble over
Watch them take another nap
Now nobody's making merry
Only trodding scared of boss
Everybody's making hurry
For some old forgotten cause
But one think surely eternal
It's condition of a man
Who don't know where he is going
Who don't know where does he stand
Whose dream power is a bottle
Put away in dry dark place
Whose youth power is well buried
Under propaganda waste
Whose dream life in opposition
To the life during the day
Who's beaten down in believing
It just kind of goes this way
