The right side's already better
the left is still a little bad
the chambers and the ventricles,
panting while they're pumping
nobody measures out
the exact tempo for you
you yourself think frequently
in the wrong rhythm more often than not
ahhaahaa our yawns
give us the idea that
there's too little air in the brain
since there's no room
Ahhaahaa, do you know yesterday
a pig cut bread in the middle of
the destitute crowd's soup kitchen
on a dinner table made of gold

Boats are lined up
on shore where the past
waits for the liner
that may come tomorrow
The sky is above
ground that's so strange
but to be with you
it could be.
Could be.

I remember your high-handed
teaching, as you used my curiosity
to make from a boy a real man
In honor of that into your hospital room
now I'll sneak a little moonshine
sleep well, old gal,
soon the coachman will crack the whip
Ohhohoo I'm well behaved
at the doctor's I reveal
orders as prescribed
uncut wounds
Ohhohoo and I give away
the venom left undrunk
the promises, the residual bile
the last of the allowance