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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 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 for the Motherland's better days

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