No fucking thing impossible Dialigue cut

Verse 1
You meet a guy and something clicks,
Like you knew him long before this shift
Same dust lungs, same tired eyes,
Same joke when everything goes to shit
Clacton-on-Sea, Lidl car park ground,
2015, jackhammer sound
Small family firm, Paul Morgan’s name,
Worst jobs ever — but we played the game
Cam looks at me, sweat on his face,
Grins and says in his Essex way:
Cam: “Peter… kurwa, this is fucked.”
Me: “Ja pierdolę… we’ll be alright, mate.”
Chorus
There’s no fucking thing impossible, bro
KURWA — that’s all we know
Polish blood, English bone,
Ja pierdolę — we get it done
Verse 2
Crazy Polish Peter, no skills on paper,
Just hands, pain and stubborn nature
Groundworks slave, shovel all day,
Watching machines roll far away
Cam Waite younger, Slavic roots,
Czech soul in dusty boots
Agency lad, learning fast,
Smile so big it beats the past
Boss says: “Three days for that wall.”
I walk in dust, hear concrete fall
Two hours later — silence, sun,
Wall is gone, job fucking done
Cam (laughing): “What the fuck, man?!”
Me: “Kurwa… I told you I can.”
Chorus
No fucking thing impossible, mate
Even when your body hates
Say it loud, say it raw today:
“Ja pierdolę — we made our way”
Verse 3
McDonald’s break, heat like hell,
DJ Ballon — Pussy Lover yell
“Crazy Polish Peter!” — whole place laughs,
Cam nearly chokes on fries and laughs
Back to work, asphalt burns,
Jackhammer screaming through the nerves
Singing “Push Me” like idiots do,
Cam acts music video — I film the truth
Cam: “Bro, we’re fucking mad.”
Me: “Kurwa… but alive and glad.”
Verse 4
Hadleigh job near Southend town,
Broken pipe deep underground
Hand digging, boss explains slow,
“How to cut it… let it flow”
Small grinder, plastic pipe,
Shit still running — that’s real life
Closer to end — explosion of smell,
Pure sewage hell, straight from hell
Cam pukes — I puke too,
Same second, same “oh fuck” view
On our knees, tears and slime,
Brother puking same damn time
Cam (gagging): “KURWA MAĆ!”
Me: “JA PIERDOLĘ… I see my lunch!”
Boss gives clothes, shower, rest,
But respect stayed — that mattered best
Chorus
There’s no fucking thing impossible, bro
Even knee-deep in shit, you know
Laugh, puke, cry — still stand tall
KURWA MAĆ — brothers through it all
Verse 5
Years went by, roads split apart,
I drive machines, Cam builds with art
But one late message breaks the night:
“Mate, you good?” — still feels right
Borders mean nothing, accents lie,
A brother’s soul you can’t deny
If I fall, he’s there — I know
Same the other way — no ego
Cam: “Peter, remember Lidl?”
Me: “Kurwa… always, brother.”
Final Chorus (slow blues)
No fucking thing impossible, friend
Life bends us, but we don’t bend
Say it once, say it true, say it raw:
“KURWA… we fucking did it all”