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birthday poetry

warum
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
ihr schönes Haar
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
schöne, tragical Gesichter
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen
ich bot sie aller Abschied
ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
von Song und Traum für überhaupt gegangen

 



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