TROUBLED, OUT AND RED (S. Weber/M. Schumpelt/J.O. Sцrup)
Life once meant one big cruel game Hey, do you want to play with me You take the figures It's all the same You've got the permission to ride on the scree
In this ugly pink painted kitchen. I took the first bite of my slice of bread Spreaded only with butter and red hot spices
This is the fourth beer for this evening As if I was to drug my feelings With hate and with passion I overstrain my senses
Troubled, out and red When I'm looking to the stars Troubled, out and red But no one's calling
I've got some problems with ordering my mind. In my thoughts I'm writing a long letter to You - hunting for words. I hope You'll excuse that it took such a long time.
I don't want to write I'd like to talk As a matter of fact Do nothing at all. I'd like to observe the fishes Beeing troubled out and red
I'd like to have an enormous chess cup With Neptune and his people
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