2018.08.31.
Come to us
It's not such a long time ago
You told me, it's hard for you
To imagine, how it will be
When you're 35
It wasn't easy to admit
To tell me that fear is creeping up
Of becoming old and decay
To look without dreams into the future
You don't see your friends anymore
Your comrades, you feel empty
When you hear about what they are doing now
Their feelings and ideas got flattened out
They arrange themselves with the state
Corrupt themselves through consumerism
With colour TVs and fat cars
Empty heads and full bellies
The slaves of comfort
Are really like cyclists
Kicking below and bending their backs
And sipping on their beers blissfully
With their handsome and well cared for beards
The liberals, enlightened ones
Who think ten times about every sentence
Strain themselves grotesquely to conform
So you're standing there and don't know yet
Where you belong, a dream is shattering
You don't want to become like the others
Who always wander in a circle
Who look forward to their pensions
Every day just pulling the wool over their eyes
Instead of putting a spanner in the works
They keep going on, everyone on their own
Don't throw yourself away and don't stay down
Tell about the fights and the victories
We need you and your power
Together we'll soon get it done
When you just lose your fears
And start rebelling with us
Then we will buid the future
Come to us!
2018.04.02.
Snow at Easter
The first day of this voyage
lead me into the past
with images and signs
and dead faces,
signs of oblivion.
The rain got on my nerves and the storm was cold
I threw a last glance
to the crowd of a long forgotten time
I knew I would never come back
The second day it was as always
with grime and concrete and exhaust fumes
My new home on the highway:
not glancing at anything and nothing but speeding.
The endless ribbon through a dying country,
that industriously shovels its own grave.
Over dead rivers and through dead forests
from where a rotten stench is blowing.
Snow at Easter, snow at Easter,
Tanks are rolling through a village,
Children by the roadside are waving,
Houses seem to tremble,
Snow at Easter, snow at Easter.
The third day lead to the reservation,
where they think the world is still okay.
We float above the water and live the dream
of the idyll that is long gone.
The buzzards circle between trees and sky,
a heron stands solitarily and waiting,
we breathe soft in the rythm of time,
it takes an eternity until he finally lifts off.
On the fourth day
to the concrete wall of the runway,
with stones of impotence in our hands
A ravaged forest, a torn country,
with wanted posters and slogans on the walls.
The sun was burning hot
and the eyes were burned,
the air was falling too heavy from the toxic gas,
an acrid fog on our way back,
far away we threw ourselves tired into the grass.
Snow at Easter, snow at Easter,
Water cannons behind the wall,
Children cry because of the tear gas,
Trees seem to shiver,
Snow at Easter, snow at Easter