Slowly, the day finds its end and the night begins
In the Kärntner street, there sings one "Blowin' In The Wind"
Wearing a green skirtlet, standing there, totally lost
And the Steffl [St.Stephen's(Cathedral)], his look descents, onto the poor Styrian lad
Who liked to try his luck, in the great, foreign city
He thought, his music gets him onto the Rennbahnexpress-cover page
The dream past by, burst like soapy bubbles. Nothing's left,
Besides a few Schilling, in his guitar case, inside
For weeks, I`m already standing here,
for weeks, I´m plodding myself
I play me, my fingers sore
And even sing “Here comes the sun“ (S.T.S. song)
But it is like getting nuts,
No one likes to hear me sing
Slowly, I really had enough,
I ask myself, what am I doing
There, the whole day, the wind is blowing,
Nothing as road works, that no man, can find anything
The Buren sausages are a horror
And in the coffeehouse you burn yourself out
(Refrain:)
I want back home, I feel here so alone
I don't need a big world, I want home to Fürstenfeld
In the newspaper, there they wrote,
There is a scene, you have to go
What they want they shall write,
For me, this scene, can get lost,
There, I went, yesterday, to the U4 (Disco in Vienna),
starts a lass to talk with me
Black lips, green hair,
One can get scared, really true
(Refrain)
Never again, will I play, in Vienna,
Vienna has just not deserved me
At most, I'll play yet in Graz,
Sinalbelkirchen and Stinatz
I need no belt, I need no ring,
I want back behind the Semmering
I need only that little cash
For the fare to Fürstenfeld
(Refrain)