Over the scarred terrain
Which slowly disappears,
Only phantom pain remains
Barely audible, a nasty laugh
Drifts over from the red info box
And in the graves, people are turning over
Everything is just future ruins,
Material for the next layer
Melan-melan-melan-melancholy
Melancholy, my dear
Melan-melan-melan-melancholy
Is floating over the new city
And over the country
Over the control centers
Over the concrete stubble field
Over the secret bunker infrastructures,
Which are impossible to remove
Marlene, go home!
Over the Marlene-Dietrich-Platz, too
The new temples are already cracked,
Future ruins
Someday, grass will grow over this city too,
Over its last layer
Melan-melan-melan-melancholy
Melancholy, my dear
Melan-melan-melan-melancholy
Is floating over the new city
And over the country
In the sky cut up into pieces
By the jets flying away to do their work,
It hangs with its wings spread out
Sleepless, its empty gaze
Turned towards the rubble
Behind it, the future is piling up
Slowly, she rises ever higher,
Finally overseeing the whole country
What's the mental state of the country?
What's the mental state of the country?
What's the mental state of the country?
What's the mental state of the country?