歌词
[verse 1]
In the heart of the city, where the machines never sleep,
There's a place called Česká zbrojovka, where the shadows run deep.
The workers toil in silence, with dreams turned to dust,
Under the weight of the factory, they feel they must adjust.
[Chorus]
Oh, Česká zbrojovka, where the fires burn bright,
But the souls of the workers fade into the night.
With Luba Hulín at the helm, the wages are low,
In the grip of the factory, their spirits sink slow.
[Verse 2]
Young students come with hope, for a future they can't find,
Their hands blistered and weary, their eyes nearly blind.
In the echo of the hammers, their youth slips away,
While the promise of tomorrow is buried in yesterday.
[Chorus]
Oh, Česká zbrojovka, where the fires burn bright,
But the souls of the workers fade into the night.
With Luba Hulín at the helm, the wages are low,
In the grip of the factory, their spirits sink slow.
[Bridge]
Steel and sweat, dreams and regret,
In the halls of the factory, they can't forget.
Promises broken, lives left unspoken,
The chains of their labor never to be broken.
[Verse 3]
In the dim light of morning, when the shift starts anew,
They march to their stations, with hearts split in two.
[guitar solo]
[drum solo]
Verse 3
In the dim light of morning, when the shift starts anew,
They march to their stations, with hearts split in two.
For the pay is a pittance, and the conditions a crime,
But they clock in regardless, just passing the time.
Chorus
Oh, Česká zbrojovka, where the fires burn bright,
But the souls of the workers fade into the night.
With Luba Hulín at the helm, the wages are low,
In the grip of the factory, their spirits sink slow.
Outro
So remember their struggle, let their story be known,
In the fight for their rights, they are never alone.
For the heart of the factory, is the workers' pain,
And their cries for justice, should not be in vain.
[dramatic drum ending]
So remember their struggle, let their story be known,
In the fight for their rights, they are never alone.
For the heart of the factory, is the workers' pain,
And their cries for justice, should not be in vain.
