2020.09.05.
The Sphinx of Berlin
Again the lights are on in the chancellery,Frau Doctor Merkel is getting ready for the next shift,
a bit tired by the election campaign, but not exhausted.
She sits down and says, „I am
and I will be the German Chancellor“,
and she is well-buttoned, as she always is.
Immobile, motionless, breathless and idle,
thoughtless, boundless and still,
this woman knows what she wants.
She is the Sphinx of Berlin,
she consists of chancellorine.
This stuff is not for everyone,
it makes you light like a feather,
it's simply grown in Templin.
She is the Sphinx of Berlin,
she consists of chancellorine.
Where others often fail,
we can just hear her remain silent,
there you don't need any utopias.
She remains in office and alert,
she is square-shaped, handy, good,
everything else would be personal.
She can only paint by numbers,
but that's the way you win elections.
Unfortunately, Martin Schulz was only a candidate.
Inconceivable, unassailable, inencompassable,
intangible, carved in stone and painted,
mummified in her own function.
She is the Sphinx of Berlin,
she consists of chancellorine.
This stuff is not for everyone,
I think, only Gerhard Schröder
once was allowed to sniff a line.
She is the Sphinx of Berlin,
and we will live to see,
that some day she'll float away
into an ivory tower.
Somewhere in a status quo,
somehow and someplace,
it will rule on its own,
then it will rule on its own.