Nobody asked us
we didn't have a face yet
whether we wanted to live or not
torn back and forth and back and forth
between wanting to understand and having to act
none Love, no work, no life
I hit my head on my pillow
and when the day comes it sticks
and the state is not a dream
but remains like my pillow< br/>a state that shapes me, the threads that tore
and manages the world
that moves through me and you
through thoughts of stone of light a wall
one Sun made of iron a language of sadness
A story of its own
from pure presence
collects and piles up
by itself around me
as I drive through the area
And the state lies in the streets and says:
Life's a Highway!
Why are you artificially getting yourself and your stomach upset?
If only you were in bed stayed
Oh no, because I'm so superficial
my insides turn inside out
it's written right here and on my face:
Power verrückt was you verrückt power!
With a pillow over my forehead and a vacuum inside me
I walk through streets full of people in this city
and ask myself where I would like to be
where to start me on? Yawning emptiness
If I've always had nothing with anything around it
then I'll make a slit in my dress
and think it's wonderful
It's my own story from the pure present< br/>collects and piles up
by itself around me
while I'm driving through the area
So let's get out of Hamburg
first we take Manhattan and then off to Berlin
where people go because they are homesick
What do I want in Italy, I want genitals
Berlin Wall, against Holo, Holo and Holidays I think
and move I'll grab something later and then go to the bars
I'll be able to sleep when I'm dead
I'll lie down halfway there
and dream of being one with everything
br/>the dream of the state
that is enough for itself, that proves nothing
grows together as it should
and spreads its faith
thoughts made of stone
a wall made of light
A story of its own
from pure presence
collects and piles itself
around me
while I drive through your area
The next morning the pillow sticks to me
I knocked the dream right out of my head
and I remember your body parts and then mine again
and your skin and I think about where I would like to be
I looked out of the laundry
along the layers whose density I curse
like my body, a social structure of many
the great The common denominator among them:
My name is Unified Architect
You can also call me stupid
That's true, if everything fits together
Soon it won't be closed anymore mean
And a story of its own
from pure presence
collects and piles up
by itself around me
while I drive through your area
And the state is not a dream
is even in my kisses
a state that shapes me, the threads that broke
and manages the world
more space than position
and This is how he organizes his disappearance
by moving through me
through thoughts made of stone, made of light, a wall
a sun made of iron, a language made of sadness