Sitting on the Internet on the net,
In communities, quorums, chats and forums,
They sit on the heap in handkerchiefs and felt boots,
In fun companies, public buildings,
In private offices, in markets and fees,
In church cathedrals, where squabbles and quarrels,
On public transport, local edition,
They are waiting for provocation, at demonstrations.
Troylen - they are all hiding between us!
Troylen - they all love to troll us!
They sit in a bathhouse, or maybe a bar,
In the supreme parliament, in the gum clubs,
In politicians, parties, in the ringing of the rigals,
In public opinion, sarcasm belching,
They sit in the ass, or maybe in Europe,
They like someone's especially grief
By humiliating another, raise your ego,
They like to mix a person with dirt.
Sitting upstairs - in the United Nations, the State Department,
And they always chew on human rights
You won't find them, they hide their faces
Under masks of polite, affectionate, kind,
They sit in the chairs of the local bosses,
With the consciousness of power over those who are honest,
After all, honest, open and stupid and naked,
So defenseless against triple injections.