An idle man trudges tiredly
And supersaturated through empty land
Cold and lonely, dull and sad
An empty man on a far beach
Hatred and love, doubt and envy
Force him to walk the streets at night
A depressive egoman
Who soundlessly screams:
I had everything, I had everything, why is it not with me anymore?
Too little to live, too much to die, much too much for me
Every lie, every tear
Forced him onwards out on the sea
A small boat on deep sea
Which would like to be a battle ship
No land in sight anymore
But he wishes for it so much
And he screams
For his life
Desperation is a harsh word
He glimpse goes confused from woman to woman
Enemy country at every place
In the evening everything turns blue
Cold glass on his lips
Hard metal on his forehead
Searching for protection while being stricken by addiction
He screams at the top of his voice:
I have nothing, nothing of the things which are important
Too little to live, too much to die, much too much for me
A much too small boat with much too thin walls
A miserable week, a tormentin weeks comes to an end