Verboten.

The easy choice,
the cheap nightmares in Berlin
when it was spring among "Nolli"
sweat in the morning
under the boring grey "ashes" sun
no melted Kichner paints for us.

You stayed comfortable,
rubbing slowly, carefully your clit,
lied carefully on the bed,
thinking about becoming me
in another man, a useful one
while I run onto the streets at night
without a coat, without fear, without faith
in myself
just for buying more and more
premium beer.

Rather the boats will sail,
crossing the cristallyne Elbe,
going up some hidden stairs
in the crimson curse of my skin.

I cannot obviate,
this illness,
my patner,
your dim smile,
my fateful end.


Time goes by, thanks,
there's stupidity for breakfast
in offer since yesterday
I know it. Who doesn´t?
The wind will continue
blowing, surrounding our heads,
and just sometimes, when u're alone
U hope for:
he will take and carry all your hate,
open clearly ur eyes for a while,
kill that muddy apathy,
disclaim your bloody scurf... and...

It's a long time since the wind
is not blowing into my veins.