Каспар Хаузер 1994 - 9 недель
текст песни

-The weekly weeks -

Nine weeks in the shackles
Life under the scorching sun
You are silent, lips in the crusts
The body is painted with a rod
The guard is sky
I threw a piece and satisfied
-Ah, eat, dog!-
And pokes with scraps in the face

Here, do not count corpses
Lies, greed and flattery
People who are confused
Like wolves
Dirt, poverty, hunger and death

Black birds in the sky
Flock over the victim circling
Blood, red jets pour.
The wind does not dry the wounds
What kind of country is so
People are not people, animals
In the pitch hell black doors
Open for these creatures.

There is no need to count corpses here
Lies, greed and flattery
People who are confused
Like wolves
Dirt, poverty, hunger and death.