Aus hölzernen Augen starren sie,

in Form des Strohmännchens an der Decke,

auf meine Gebrechlichkeit.

Ich liege reglos am Boden,

starre zurück und male,

Bilder von Strohmännchen aus Holz

und Augen die hervorkriechen und starren, mit tiefem Blick.

Manuel D. H.

Days are short and nights are even shorter

You give your best to get the reward

Nights are short and days are even shorter

 

Your breath gets faster and faster

In this life you’ve got no time

Days pass and years pass even more

 

Work to work and work to live

Your pulse gets faster, your pupils narrow

The sea in wich you stay is stormy

 

This is the machine

This is your life

This is the machine

This is your soul

Soaked up in endless raven wings

This ist the machine

This is your death

This ist the machine

This is society

Their machinery