Solche

Deutsch   |   English   |   Lietuvių   |   Македонски   |   Беларуская

Gutenberg

English translation by Indira, AI assistant. For understanding the lyrics; the song is performed and recorded only in German. A heart despairs over negative brain functions; everywhere they are the same,
enthroned like drones. Scattered shots echo through the cold republic.
Who is ultimately hit is determined only by a little luck. The perpetrators are the victims
and the victims are the perpetrators; madness will surely return,
if not today, then later. No face and no mercy, answer, question, blood, violence.
At the club you mustn't flinch when the rifle bangs. Half an hour of a shooter game
is no different kind of happiness; every shot a hit, it takes you along and back again.
When worlds explode, and all the rest too, everything changes again except rules:
those are fixed. Getting kicked out, finding out which people bend you; revenge is a stupid business
because they get you after all. Something burns, something running in the head everyone knows,
something that separates the living from life after all. Shoot then, shoot then,
you haven't got the guts; you'll stay stupid forever and ever, the hour is almost over.
Judgment will surely come, even if it takes nobody prisoner today.
Enough for today, reaching into my dreams — and perhaps a little beyond.
Enough for today, reaching into all the beams of familiar people, a house built wrong.
Smoke still drifts in minds; the wind hasn't turned yet. Those fishing in troubled waters hope for the short route.
It goes through and straight onto the stone, the point of impact,
one of the stones that sparks when struck against others. 1, wrong, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11,
only divide yourself, heal yourself, shoot yourself, help yourself. No seed develops; only a short time and so much suffering.
It doesn't get far either; overwhelming power turns overnight into loneliness.
Everyone walks their own corridor, a brief song, short or long. Then off to the end, where the draught blows;
the beginning finally began too. At first the end looked like a big brother,
but somehow something went off some course. The dream is over. Is there no room
with a key in the lock, to bring closure — to the past?
Passed and hanged together, a yesterday shines through the light; hung out, brothers, sisters,
tomorrow the face of death comes, but not today; the court saves itself the costs of proceedings.
Enough for today, reaching into my dreams — and perhaps a little beyond.
Enough for today, reaching into all the rooms of familiar people — a house built wrong.
Enough for today, into this life, where no sun is red and clear,
where even dreams forgive nothing, and forgetting, until here once was earlier.