In the shopping center and discounter
I am always in a bad mood
In the endlessly huge supermarket
I am close to a heart-attack
There are so many things in the racks
I don't know what I should take
Buying something comes close to torture
I only go the corner shop:
In the corner shop
Right at the corner over there
When the bell rings at the door
It's close to nostalgia
At the supermarket I am alone
Nobody helps me when I am searching for something
I push around my cart
And look what the other people buy
Then I stand in the line to pay
No, I can't picture that at all
I know where I am still a customer
I go to the corner shop
In the corner shop
Right at the corner over there
When the bell rings at the door
It's close to nostalgia
It's private at the corner shop
It's no vending machine
When I can't pay my stuff
The saleswoman says it doesn't matter and she'll put it on the cuff
When the corner shop does not exist anymore
And the discounter takes its place
I will sit down on the sidewalk
And start a hunger strike
In the corner shop
Right at the corner over there
When the bell rings at the door
It's close to poetry