Nothing changed,
Their world hasn’t been rearranged.

The children still go to school.
One of them is dressed uncool.
Mourning, only wearing black,
There is no way back.

Another kid comes in—
laughs and mutters: "**** it! we never win.”

There is a boy in the hallway,
Crying because he doesn’t get a say.

Karol Tadeusz Nawrocki is now,
THEIR president,
THEIR leader,
THEIR ruler,
THEIR FATE.

They lost.

They heard Magdalena Agnieszka Biejat—
her name sadly couldn’t make it.

Rafał Kazimierz Trzaskowski?
another face on the losing ballot.

PiS won,
but at what cost?
A corridor of silent tears.
A playground where laughter dies.
A future stolen from poor kids.

I wish I could quit thinking about norms,
There’s a rainbow after all storms.
The ones in our minds too I guess,
I just wish I would think about this less.

Because really, everything is unfair,
So who cares about my short hair?
And of course it’ll grow back,
Yet it forever leaves a crack.

A crack in my heart and my head,
I can’t even believe what I’ve said.
They want the hair to be long,
All I feel is just, that this is wrong.

I want the red not the blue key,
I don’t think that’s hard to see.
So it won’t be cut once again,
But will that be the rainbow or the rain?

'Cause I shall look in the mirror,
That won’t make anything clearer.
And I will feel sad looking there,
My hair will be too long to bear.

I will look at photos of me now,
I’ll probably wonder why and how.
Might say that it was a mistake,
They’ll never see if it’s true or fake.