Used to be commitment-free, prowling round the streets like a drunken tiger.
Cigarette arabesques, dancing on the K Road curb in front of taxis
and they want to hurt you,
but you don't care, you're daring them to hit you.
What became of that angry young man?
Thoughtless nights, pointless fights, holding court like some doomed romantic poet.
Parts the throng, knives are on, sleeping on the rear deck by the recycling,
you'd leave a beautiful corpse
and you don't care, you want the night to take you.
What became of that angry young man?

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN