Across the scarfaced terrain
slowly disappearing
only phantom pain remains
Scarcely audible foul laughter seeps out
from the red Info Box
making some turn quietly in their graves
Nothing but future ruins
material for the next layer
Mela, Mela, Mela, Mela, Melancholia
Melancholia, mon cher,
Mela, Mela, Mela, Mela, Melancholia
floats over the new city
and over the land
Over the control centres
over the stubble fields of concrete
over the secret net of bunkers
refusing to be wiped out
Marlene go home!
also over the Marlene-Dietrich-Platz
The new temples are already cracked
future ruins
one day grass will also grow over the city
over its final layer
Mela, Mela, Mela, Mela, Melancholia
Melancholia, mon cher,
Mela, Mela, Mela, Mela, Melancholia
floats over the new city
and over the land
In the lascerated sky
flown to bits by the jets rehearsing
she hangs with widespread wings
sleepless and with frozen gaze
pointed at rubble
behind her the future piling up
slowly she flies higher and higher
at last surveys the entire land
What is the lay of the land?
What is the lay of the land?
What is the lay of the land?
What is the lay of the land?