Ostrołęka to New York Bridge

Yeah. Born in the fire '89. Landed in the concrete in '94.

Ostrołęka to the world. Listen. Born in the year the curtain

finally tore. A child of the change, a witness to the war.

Of the old ways dying and the new ones taking breath. In the streets

of Ostrołęka, life was dancing with death. Five years of the struggle,

five years of the gray. Then a Boeing 747 carried us away.

1994, stepped onto the block. The city was a furnace and

the rhythm was a shock. From the silence of the Wstola to the sirens