Cliquot

A plague in the workhouse, a plague on the poor
Now I'll beat on my drum 'til I'm dead
Yesterday, a fever, tomorrow, St. Peter
I'll beat on my drum until then.

But what melody will lead my lover from his bed?
What melody will see him in my arms again?

Set fire to foundation and burn out the station
You'll never get nothing of mine
The pane of my window will flicker and billow
I won't leave a stitching behind

But what melody will lead my lover from his bed?
What melody will see him in my arms again?

I'll sing of the walls of the well and the house at the top of the hill
I'll sing of the bottles of wine that we left on our old windowsill
I'll sing of the years you will spend getting sadder and older
Oh love, and the cold, the oncoming cold

After the Maturafeier

shit
shit
shit
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shit
shit

shit
shit
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shit

...shit.

Go die, finally.

I can't help but feel it's all worthless. Nothing ever is of any use for me. I'm never of any use to anybody.
And since we may rot both ways... why not be faster?
Saves us from even more.
Truly. This may be life, but why is it life?
Sometimes, life just gives us the finger. The irony.
The irony.

I am not going back.

Damned. That's what we all are.
We can't see it, because we are.
We can't know it, because we are.
We can't sense it, because we are.
Not giving a damn. Not giving any damn at all.

I'm worthless, and you most likely are too.
Why do we need to fight? Fight on?
What's all this about fighting spirits?
Is giving up not good enough?

Give up. Let yourself go. And toss and turn on the floor.
The floor.
Toss and turn.
Go.
Let it go.

Holy bitterness.
Agony, misery, distress, torment.
Come down and fetch me.
Come on, try me.
Try to catch me.
I'll be faster. Higher. Smarter.
There's nothing left. I'm gone.

My mind's gone.
Gone.
Disappeared.
Vaporized.
I'm a thoughtless being.
I'm a deadhearted being.
I'm a redundant being.

Completely useless. To the max.

I'm not here.

Kill me while you can.
It's fun, I promise. I promise.
And then we'll both be happy.
Both of us happy.
A dream within a dream.
Within a dream.

Pyramids. Black-eyed angels. Astral cars and figures. Lovers. Past and futures. Little row boat.

Nothing to fear.
Nothing to doubt.

We'll go fishing after my funeral.
It would mean a lot to me.
Really.

Hurry up. I'm waiting...

Hearing Damage

A tear in the membrane allows the voices in.

You can do no wrong

in my eyes.

I should go die

That's what everybody is waiting for