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I am a passenger in the very back car of the train of life
I have a beret on my head and a yellow metal pipe in my hand
I'm going like crazy towards where the train is going
Ãöh, çöh, çöh , çöh
I'm a passenger in the wagon attached to the train of life
I'm going with a beret on my head and a pipe in my hand
Towards where the train is going
Ãöh, çöh, à §Ã¶h, çöh
Every stage in life is a station
A stopping place
Qatar wants to stop at these stations
He wants to rest
But me
I don't know what I'm in a hurry for
When I hug the pipe in my hand
I blow and blow
Drop
And as soon as I hear this sound, the locomotive in front and the wagons in the back
They rush forward, shaking
/>Ãöh, çöh, çöh, çöh
Where does this Qatar go?
They say that many people left and never came back
But I don't know why why
I'm blowing the trumpet again
Drop
And Qatar is accelerating again
Ãöh, çöh, çöh, çöh
Beware of fire, pay attention to the roads
Throw away the coals in your hand sparingly
The locomotive is gnawing tiredly at the distances
The distances seem to melt under the wheels
Ãà ¶h, çöh, çöh, çöh
I know what lies ahead is an abyss
But you walk, my child
The rest is worse, the rest is known
The rest is worse, the rest is known