Introduction in English:
After five years of abstinence, my son fell back into drugs. All attempts to help him bounced off the increasingly overpowering drug cocktails. All my feelings during this time, the anger about the destructive power of the drugs, the powerlessness in the face of the quicksand in which my son sank further and further, the despair and sadness about the loss of loving contact with him, I have tried to process in this song.  

Introduction in German:
Nach fünf Jahren der Abstinenz ist mein Sohn wieder den Drogen verfallen. Alle Versuche, ihm zu helfen, prallten an den immer übermächtiger werdenden Drogencocktails ab. Alle meine Gefühle in dieser Zeit, die Wut über die zerstörerische Kraft der Drogen, die Ohnmacht angesichts des Treibsandes, in den mein Sohn immer weiter versank, die Verzweiflung und Trauer über den Verlust des liebevollen Kontaktes zu ihm, habe ich versucht, in diesem Song zu verarbeiten.  

Lyrics

I am cryin` for you, my son

Can only watch you, 
How you slip down
How you lose your point of view

Can only watch you, 
As you slowly sink
Drowning in the mire of your soul

You have become such a stranger to me
Where south was is now cold north
The familiarity is gone 
The dignity lies in the dirt

Ooh please don't throw away your last shirt

I am crying for you, my son
I`m not in peace with myselg, my son

We were playing music
We were jamming together
In an incredible harmony

Threw the balls to each other
We were in tune
Like a magical symphony

But now the strings are torn
All my knowledge is of no use 
I no longer know you
Strange astral wind

I am crying for you, my son
I`m not in peace with myself, my son

I am crying for you, my son
I am crying for you, my son
I am crying for you, my son

I`m crying for you, my son

I Am Crying For You, My Son

My musical associations to the theme "competition"

Mission Competition

Introduction in English:
For me it was a big challenge in two ways to do the music to the lyrics of P-Ten, who lives in the Philippines:
First, he is the age of my son, who some of my SC friends know went through a serious crisis in the spring from which he has not really recovered yet. P-Ten obviously has something that my son still lacks at his young age: A belief in himself, in his own dreams and visions. While singing, I kept imagining that P-Ten was speaking to my son like a good friend of the same age, helping him to overcome his tormenting self-doubt. 
Secondly, P-Ten's lyrics also repeatedly mention the belief in God. I don't know P-Ten personally, so I don't know which God he is referring to in his text. 
I myself am not religious or feel to belong to a certain religious community. But, as I have already described it in my song "A Prayer of Hope", there exists for me a kind of "inner God" who goes far beyond me and holds the world together in the innermost; to whom I sometimes turn when my belief in myself falters and self-doubt plagues me. Then I can experience, among other things, in the dialogue with him, that I am not alone, that this inner God believes in me, carries me and holds me, no matter what happens.      

Introduction in German:

Für mich war es in zweierlei Hinsicht eine große Herausforderung, zu dem Text von P-Ten, der auf den Philippinen lebt, die Musik zu machen:
Erstens ist er im Alter meines Sohnes, von dem einige meiner SC-Freunde wissen, dass er im Frühjahr eine schwere Krise durchmachte, von der er sich bis jetzt noch nicht wirklich erholt hat. P-Ten hat offensichtlich etwas, was meinem Sohn in seinem jungen Alter noch fehlt: Der Glaube an sich, an die eigenen Träume und Visionen. Beim Singen habe ich immer wieder vorgestellt, das P-Ten wie ein guter, gleichaltriger Freund zu meinem Sohn spricht und ihm hilft, seine quälenden Selbstzweifel zu überwinden. 
Zweitens kommt in dem Text von P-Ten auch immer wieder der Glaube an Gott vor. Ich kenn P-Ten nicht persönlich und ich weiß entsprechend auch nicht, welchen Gott er in seinem Text meint. 
Ich selbst bin nicht religiös oder fühle mich einer bestimmten Glaubensgemeinschaft zugehörig. Aber, wie ich es schon bei meinem Song "A Prayer of Hope" beschrieben habe, existiert für mich eine Art "innerer Gott", der weit über mich hinausgeht und die Welt im innersten zusammenhält; an den ich mich manchmal wende, wenn mein Glauben an mich ins Wanken gerät und mich Selbstzweifel plagen. Dann kann ich unter anderem in der Zwiesprache mit ihm erfahren, das ich nicht allein bin, dass dieser innere Gott an mich glaubt, mich trägt und hält, egal was passiert.

Dream (P-Ten & Karlit-O-Kay)

Dream (P-Ten & Karlit - O-Kay)

Introduction in English:

Last summer I went wandering in the Black Forest with my oldest friend. After a long day of walking, we stopped at a rather musty inn.   
We were chewing on the overcooked pasta casserole when suddenly the door opened and a young lady entered the inn. With her noble and elegant-delicate appearance she did not fit at all to the stuffy environment.
She sat down together with her family, who hermetically sealed her off, at the next table.
My friend and I immediately had the same association of a "sad beauty". On the outside, she seemed to hold herself together like an extremely well-formed porcelain figure. In her being, however, she seemed deeply lonely, isolated, and almost broken to us.  
For a very brief moment, our eyes met. And in this millisecond-eye gaze into her soul, this chanson was born.  
Since this young woman would have fit more into the Versailles chateau culture of the late 18th century, I sing this chanson in a frail French.

Lyrics in English (for those who don't speak French)

Sad Beauty

You sit there, upright, as if oiled
The hair tamed, strictly gelled

Behind the glazed look,
A shadow falls back
On misfortune

Your face marbled,
Brightly made up, highly decorated
like a disused fairy tale lake
like a nestless animal

You fall - unnoticed
A broken porcelain work of art
An art vase with a deep crack in the bottom

Sad Beauty, Sad Beauty, so sad

Your little daughter sits to your left
Wants your answer, but you are silenced

Your mother feeling is completely drained

Your parents look at you
They can't reach you anymore
Your sister is shaking at your garden gate
Even from your beloved ones you are cut off

You fall - unnoticed
A broken porcelain work of art
An art vase with a deep crack in the bottom
Sad beauty, sad beauty, so sad

Sad Beauty

Introduction in English:

Most recently, after a long time, I was at the "Black Cafe" on Berlin's Kurfürstendamm. And as I sat there, I remembered a scene from my life that was the starting point for the song "Treason:
About 25 years ago I'm sitting one Saturday morning at three o'clock in the Black Cafe. Although I hardly ever drink alcohol, I'm drinking my third glass of vodka to wash down the increasingly painful shock of a triple betrayal: 
My wife betrayed our fidelity alliance because she cheated on me. My best friend betrayed our friendly loyalty because my wife cheated with him. And finally, I betrayed myself by taking poor care of myself and blindly trusting them.
The associated feeling of "nothing is the same as it was before" and "everything that seemed so right now appears wrong, upside down, or in shambles..." I have tried to express with this song.

Treason

Red light turns blue
Discreetly, data is stolen
The upright mountain 
Is in truth a tiny garden gnome

The handshake firm yet shallow
A promise that gives way to crime
A gold bar suspiciously light
Wryly calibrated

The walking stick breaks
A black spider - wanders into the light

Treason
Treason
Tre-e-e-ason

The asphalt is only slightly corrugated
The minister of truth is ordered

A work of art seduces 
Adorned with the signs of lies
A garden squints colourfully
And yet has false teeth in its mouth

A blossoming rose already withered
The topping-out feast with rotten beams
A trumpeter who blows on a comb
Freshly bared

The embraced strangled
The most familiar dies

Treason
Treason
Tre-e-e-ason

The asphalt is only slightly corrugated
The minister of truth orders

Treason

Introduction in English:
Since childhood, I have always enjoyed spending time in nature and especially in the woods. Often no one knew exactly where I was. I told my mother that I was in "Transylvania". Then she knew not to ask. 
At my secret nature places I always found a deep security and a protection from the everyday demands which threatened to overrun me from time to time. 
This is basically true to this day. 
I find it all the more painful that many forests in which I used to find so much peace and harmony no longer exist today or are threatened with extinction. 
I try to give this pain a musical expression with the song "Mother Earth". 
The cover for the song this time comes from the Polish artist Renata Golab.

Lyrics in English:

Mother earth

Stone rubble, sore veins,
Trees without bark root fracture
Lions toothless, worn nails,
Wingless birds in the canyon

Meadows pale, no play of clouds,
The wind song is menacingly silent
The milk of cows dry sand
Chicken gods stones eyeless at the edge

I hold the mother earth
Soon runs completely through my hand
So sore the mother earth
The last tree in the trunk already almost burned up

Meadows stand colorless on the pastures
Winds are unleashed and distraught
Cats without fur and without paws
Dogs without snouts, biting -shy

Rose bushes are a sea of stumps
Sunflowers pea-small
Birds do not sing, the stable is empty
The clouds, hard as moonstone

I hold the mother earth
Soon completely runs through my hand
So sore the mother earth
The last tree in the trunk already almost burned

Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire...

Deutscher Originaltext: 

Mutter Erde

Steingeröll, wundgeplatzte Adern
Bäume ohne Rinde Wurzelbruch
Löwen zahnlos, abgewetzte Nägel
Flügellose Vögel in der Schlucht

Wiesen bleich, kein Wolkenspiel
Der Windgesang ist drohend still
Die Milch der Kühe Trockensand
Hühnergötter-Steine augenlos am Rand

Ich halt die Mutter Erde
Rinnt mir bald völlig durch die Hand
So wund die Mutter Erde
Der letzte Baum im Stamm schon fast verbrannt

Wiesen stehen farblos auf den Weiden
Winde sind entfesselt und verstört
Katzen ohne Fell und ohne Tatzen
Hunde ohne Schnauzen, beissend -scheu

Rosensträuche sind ein Stümpfe-Meer
Sonnenblumen erbsenklein
Vögel singen nicht, der Stall steht leer
Die Wolken, hart wie Mondgestein

Ich halt die Mutter Erde
Rinnt mir bald völlig durch die Hand
So wund die Mutter Erde
Der letzte Baum im Stamm schon fast verbrannt.

Brand, Brand, Brand, Brand, Brand, Brand….

Mutter Erde (Mother Earth)

Introduction in English:

Sometimes I dream that I meet my great musical idols. When I was intensively occupied for a while with one of my passions, the French chanson, it happened that in one of my dreams Jacques Brel sat opposite me in my small Berlin living room and gave me the assignment to write, in my way and with my possibilities, something like a sequel to his great chanson "Ne me quitte pas".  Whereas here he had described the fear of losing a loved one, now I was to describe in my song what it was like to have lost this loved one forever. 
And on the basis of this nocturnal dream collaboration, my French chanson "Je t’ai perdu" was born. 
The cover is again by the Polish artist Renata Golab.

Lyrics in English:

I have lost you

I have lost you 
lost forever

Just wanted to hold you
Keep you warm and safe

Just wanted to protect you
Protect you from abysses

Protect you from demons
Protect you from the falling

Yes I know 
You will never understand

I know
You'll see it differently

You feel dominated
Dominated by me
Controlled by me
Imprisoned by me

You feel enslaved 
For all eternity

I have lost you
Lost forever

Just wanted to love you  
Love you unconditionally, unconditionally

Strengthen you for life
Strengthen you for becoming yourself

To raise you gently 
Lift you up against the Hades

Over, gone
I have not reached you

Nothing that remains
The oath of revelation

Reap your hatred 
Reproach and hatred
Your scorn and mockery
Scorn and derision

I have lost you
For all eternity

Französischer Originaltext:

Je t'ai perdu,

Je t'ai perdu,
Perdu pour toujours

Je voulais juste te tenir
Garder au chaud en toute sécurité

Je voulais juste te protéger
Protéger des abîmes

Te préserver des demons
Préserver de la chute, de la chute

Oui, Je sais
Tu ne comprendras jamais

Je suis conscient
Tu verras les choses autrement

Tu te sens dominé
Dominé par moi
Supprimé par moi
Enfermé par moi

Tu te sens asservi
Pour l'éternité

Je t'ai perdu,

Je t'ai perdu,
Perdu pour toujours
Je voulais juste t’aimer
T’aimer sans condition

Te renforcer pour la vie 
Renforcer pour devenir soi 
Te redresser doucement
Te dresser contre l'Hadès

Fini, passé
Je ne t’ai pas attaint
Rien qui ne reste
La déclaration de reddition

Je récolte ta haine
Tes reproches et ta haine
Ta moquerie et tes railleries
Ta malice et ta derision

Je t’ai perdu 
Pour l'éternité

Je t'ai perdu

Je t'ai perdu (I have lost you)

Introduction in English:

A good thirty years ago I had a partner who had strict Catholic parents. She had four brothers who married in the strict Catholic spirit during the time we were together. 
I loved the free, unbridled, wild dancing at that time. But at those weddings, any passion was contained in a rigid religious call-and-dance ceremonial.   
My "salvation" was Bosza, a Croatian woman overflowing with warmth, cordiality and impetuous liveliness. She was the wife of my then partner's uncle, who himself had fled to Berlin decades ago from the all-suppressing Catholic morality.
And with Bosza I danced half the night away at the weddings. Most people hated us for it. But we were passionate soul mates.
After I separated from my former partner, I lost sight of Bosza for the last ten years. 
Until I received a year ago over a brother of my ex-partner by WhatsApp the message that Bosza had died with not even seventy years. 
When I received this news, I had to cry spontaneously. And out of this sadness, but also out of gratitude for the great living time together at the otherwise dead weddings, this tribute to this wonderful woman was created. A woman who burned from both ends of the candle, and like most who do, do not grow very old.

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Bosza

Shaved grass
Orgies of order in excess

Everything symmetrical
The cleanliness fetish

The compulsive cult replaces pleasure and fun

I come there to such a festival
Where they leave farts in gold seals

On the dance floors brooms
Heart-decored straw creatures

The atmosphere is arctic chilled

There you just jumped in brazenly
Loud, exuberant and soft

Created a little warmth niche
In this enchanted ice princess realm

Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza
You Know!

Fish grette leftovers at the cat table
On my lap a spoiled quiche

The life in bottles
With permanent stop tabs

The children are domesticated

The meeting train on a railway track
On which is written "Untraceable travelled"

No door handles
The eye salute empty

A glass bell lies on the sea of people

Through you came healing cracks
The gowns mutated into a dress
Stock fishes began to wag
The mood of forbiddance deflated

Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza
You know!

Deutscher Originaltext:

Bosza

Kahlgeschorenes Gras
Ordnungsorgien im Übermaß

Alles symmetrisch
Der Sauberkeitsfetisch

Der Zwangskult ersetzt Lust und Spaß

Komme dort auf so ein Fest
Auf dem man Fürze in Goldplomben lässt

Auf den Tanzflächen Besen
Herzentkernte Stroh-Wesen

Die Atmosphäre ist arktisch gekühlt

Da bist Du einfach dreist reingesprungen
laut, überbordend und weich

Schufst eine kleine Wärmenische
In diesem verwunschenen Eisprinzessinnen-Reich

Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza
You Know!

Fischgreten-Reste am Katzentisch
Auf meinem Schoß ne' verdorbene Quiche

Das Leben in Flaschen
Mit Dauerstop-Laschen

Die Kinder sind domestiziert

Der Begegnungszug auf einem Gleis
Auf dem steht „Unauffindbar verreist“

Keine Türklinken
Der Augengruß leer

Eine Glasglocke liegt auf dem Menschenmeer

Durch Dich kamen heilsame Risse
Die Talare mutierten zum Kleid
Stockfische begannen zu wedeln
Die Stimmung von Verboten entbleit

Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza
You know!

Bosza

Boza

Introduction in English:

In my late 30s, I still suffered from frequent anxiety and panic attacks. During this time, I had a recurring nightmare: I am lying in my bed at night. Some dark, strange figure comes into my room. It slowly comes closer to me. Before it reaches me, I wake up screaming and drenched in sweat.  
One day my female psychoanalyst encouraged me to relive this dream with her company. Like a fairy godmother, she now sat in my imagination at the edge of my bed and held my hand. Thus I succeeded in letting the dark figure come closer. And at some point the strange being stood in front of me and I could look him directly in the face. And suddenly it became clear to me that it is the death which stands beside me; which probably always stood beside me and also always will stand beside me: My eternal companion. 
Since these sessions, panic attacks and anxiety attacks occur very rarely. And when they do come, I now know that it is basically my residual fear of finitude, of having to die, and finally of death. And from this realization, I can feel all the more in all my depths the legendary sentence of Sigmund Freud: "If you want to live well, prepare yourself early for death". The song "Finitude" was written against the background of these experiences It is in French, because for me this language comes closest to such existential themes.

Lyrics in English (for those, who don`t speak French):

Finitude

I have no time 
Finitude
Stands in my door
And speaks to me:

Come on go 

Don't stand still
Let no more time pass

The clock is ticking away 
Your shadow wins
Decay haunts you
Pain and anguish

But you are not alone 
The duty to die
Is the bond 

That unites us 
Whether rich or poor 
Wise or foolish

Death doesn't care
He takes us to himself

Finitude
I am ready
Look at you
You move closer to me

Till you're all there with me 

Look around me 
Many backs already crooked
The rollator goes ahead
Straight to the cemetery gate

The lifting only lasts 
Until the next tower clock

Then it comes out

That we melt 
We blow in the wind
Nothing of us remains 
Death rubs its hands

But do not forget
The duty to die 
Is the bond

That unites us 
Whether rich or poor 
Wise or foolish

Death does not care
He takes us to himself

Finitude
I am ready
Look at you
You move closer to me

Till you're all with me 
Until you are
Until you are 
Untill you are
Completely with me

Texte en français:

Finitude

Je n'ai pas le temps 
La finitude
Est à ma porte
Et me parle:

Allez, vas-y 
Ne t'arrête pas
Ne laisse plus passer le temps

L'horloge s'écoule 
Ton ombre gagne
Le déclin te hante
Douleur et tourment

Mais tu n'es pas seul 
Le devoir de mourir
Est le lien 

Qui nous unit 
Riche ou pauvre 
Intelligents ou idiots

La mort c'est pareil
Elle nous fait venir

Finitude
Je suis prêt
Je te regarde
Tu te rapproches de moi

Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Tout à fait avec moi 

Je regarde autour de moi 
Beaucoup de dos déjà courbés
Le rollateur va devant
Directement à la porte du cimetière

Le lifting ne dure que 
Jusqu'à la prochaine horloge de la tour

Puis il se révèle

Que nous passons 
Emportés par le vent
Qu'il ne reste rien de nous 
Que la mort se frotte les mains

Mais n'oublie pas
Le devoir de mourir 
Est le lien

Qui nous unit 
Riche ou pauvre 
Intelligents ou idiots

La mort c'est pareil
Elle nous fait venir

Finitude
Je suis prêt
Je te regarde
Tu te rapproches de moi

Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Tout à fait avec moi
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois
Tout à fait avec moi

Finitude

Introduction in English:

Recently I met a friend who spent a month in Crete earlier this year. 
As he told me about his wanderings there, I again remembered a drastic experience I had during my stay in Crete thirty years ago. 
During my expeditions through the bare Cretan mountains at that time, I met a young man who had been living in a cave for some time, completely isolated from the world. 
We walked together for a while. He told me that he suffered from psychotic delusions with inner voices torturing him. 
The secluded life here in the mountains would help him to deal with these powerful and alienating voices. 
Nevertheless, he longed so much for a release from this "voice terror". 
When I wanted to visit him again the next day, he was nowhere to be found. 
In all these years I thought of him from time to time, especially since I also meet people here in Berlin again and again who suffer from similar psychotic confusions. 
With this song I try to put myself in the place of these people who suffer so terribly and are still largely misunderstood

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Voices in the head

Voices in the head
Eat me up

Controlling me
Beat on me

Persecute me, torture me
Incapacitate me
Condemn, despise, devalue, laugh at me 
They make me down, drive into all my limbs

Are always there, invade me
Come when they want, never leave me alone

Come through the walls, no wall can stop them

Hate, shun, move masses of vengeance 
They cause me pain with relish, they light stigma-candles inside me

I've made up my mind 
I'll be calm, because I know I can free myself from you
Yes, I can free myself from you!

The last thing I have left is to lay a hand on myself.
With my dying, I'll give you my last escort.

Then I'll cast you off like a garment of shadows

Your blasphemies, your bullying, your poison, your envy

Flow with the water and the blood from me
Disappears in the drain, far away from here

Emasculated sadists, coreless egoists, seedless fascists, 
You all can't nestle in me anymore

Float away
You stay behind

Your power is now completely null and void
A hollow space remains unnamed

I now lie in my hand

Deutscher Originaltext:

Stimmen im Kopf

Stimmen im Kopf
Fressen mich auf

Bestimmen über mich
Schlagen auf mich drauf

Verfolgen, Foltern mich
Entmündigen mich
Verurteilen, verachten, entwerten, verlachen, 
Machen mich nieder, fahr`n in all meine Glieder

Sind immer da, dringen in mich ein
Kommen wann sie wollen, lassen mich nie allein

Kommen durch die Wände, Keine Mauer halt sie auf

hassen, schassen, bewegen Rachemassen, 
Bereiten lustvoll Schmerzen, Entzünden in mir Wundmal-Kerzen

Ich hab’ mich entschieden, 
Ich werde ruhig, weil ich weiß, ich kann mich von Euch befreien
Ja ich kann mich von Euch befreien!

Das letzte was mir bleibt, ist, Hand an mich zu legen
Mit meinem Freitod gebe ich Euch letztes Geleit

Dann leg’ ich Euch ab wie ein Schatten-Kleid

Euer Lästern, Euer Stänkern, Euer Gift, Euren Neid

Fließt mit dem Wasser und dem Blut aus mir
Entschwindet im Abfluß, weit weg von hier

Entmannte Sadisten, Entkernte Egoisten, Samenlose Faschisten, 
Ihr könnt’ Euch alle nicht mehr in mir einnisten

Schwebe hinüber
Ihr bleibt zurück

Eure Macht ist nun ganz und gar null und nichtig
Zurück bleibt ein Hohlraum unbenannt

Ich lieg jetzt in meiner Hand

Stimmen im Kopf (Voices in the Head)

Stimmen Im Kopf (Voices In The Head)

Introduction in English:

My mother was always a smart woman, endowed with a naturally high intelligence .

Living alone with her sick father, she had to leave school already in the 6th grade and go to work in a factory.

When she later met my academically pre-educated father, she was introduced through him into the circles of the so-called " educated citizens ".

We then often had corresponding "nouveau riche" and "status conceit" parties in our large rented apartment. Here, my mother regularly got to feel the "fine", subtly deeply humiliating difference between the would-be educated and her as a despicably uneducated person.

At the same time, the would-be educated often had a style of communication that I call "trash talk" in this song. They often engaged in name-dropping by mentioning only the names of famous personalities without knowing anything more about their work. When asked more closely, they quickly changed the subject or texted you with some quarter-truth.

My mother, who was plagued by feelings of inferiority, was very intimidated by this, and it made her feel all the more stupid, uninteresting, and not socially acceptable.

At that time I was still too small. But I would have liked to turn back time for my mother's protection and sing this song at the highest volume to all these "trash talkers" standing on our dining room table at that time.

That the topic of "subtle differences" is a timeless one (I bow here to the wonderfully perceptive Pierre Bourdieu in this regard) is shown by the deep rifts that continue to exist between today's self-proclaimed "elite" and the supposed "primitives".

Lyrics in English (for those, who don`t speak German):

Trash Talk

Just chat, don't think anymore, dislocate brain, be stupid 
Chattering sideways, never wavering, just no profundity, flatland

They remain one-dimensional, quite gloriously meaningless
The wordplay is all thin and stale, The shallow is all big with them

Come close all books, welcome to a shallow brain walk
Sult yourselves in the mud talk, It`s time for a nice trash talk  

Are at many parties with colorful Smarties, with false eyelashes and pout 
No contacts, just meaningless verbal acts, word junk.

They are the heroes of the lazy mind, meaningless in the jelly glow 
Are narrow-minded, cheeky and brazen, persist in the one-legged dance

Come close all books, welcome to a shallow brain walk
Sult yourselves in the mud talk, It`s time for a nice trash talk 

Have no enemies, no friends either, talk beside, nothing remains 
Leave only grease stains, can`t even bump, get stuck in the approach, nothing drifts 

Except: Trash Talk, Trash Talk, Trash Talk, Trash Talk (Fad Out)...

________________________________

Deutscher Originaltext

Trash Talk

Einfach quatschen, nicht mehr denken, Hirn ausrenken, Dumm sein 
Seitwärts plaudern, niemals zaudern, nur kein Tiefsinn, Flachland

Sie bleiben eindimensional, ganz herrlich bedeutungslos
Der Wortwitz ist ganz dünn und schal, Das Seichte ist bei ihnen ganz groß

Komm schließt alle Bücher, welcome to a shallow brain walk
Sult Euch im Schlammreden, It`s Time for a nice Trash Talk  

Sind auf vielen Parties mit bunten Smarties, mit falschen Wimpern und Schmollmund 
Keine Kontakte, nur sinn-entschlackte Verbalakte, Wortschund.

Sie sind die Helden des faulen Geists, nichtssagend im geligen Glanz, 
Sind borniert, vorlaut und dreist, verharren im einbeinigen Tanz

Kommt schließt alle Bücher, welcome to a shallow brain walk
Sult Euch im Schlammreden, It`s Time for a nice Trash Talk 

Haben keine Feinde, auch keine Freunde, reden daneben, nichts bleibt 
Hinterlaßen nur Fettflecken, können nicht mal anecken, bleiben im Ansatz stecken, nichts treibt 

Außer: Trash Talk, Trash Talk, Trash Talk, Trash Talk (Fad Out)…

Trash Talk

Introduction in English:

Last year, my wife and me bought a cottage on the Baltic Sea. It was to be something like our retirement home for the next thirty years. 
Unfortunately, this vision has so far been thwarted by our increasingly resentful neighbours. Consideration is a foreign word for them. They let their children play loud basketball as long as they want; they grill foul-smelling meat as long as they want and they party as long as they want. 
If you ask them nicely to be quiet, you will be dismissed with slogans like "We don't give a shit", "Move away if you don't like it" or "We'll do what we like".
In my helplessness and speechlessness over this dissocial stubbornness, I came across an old Beatles song called "Not a Second Time". Of course, it was composed by John Lennon in 1963 in a completely different context.
But its lyrics fit just as well with my desperate and so far largely unheard plea for more neighbourly consideration. - In particular, the lines: "You're giving me the same old line/ I'm wondering why/You hurt me then/ you're back again/No, no, no, not a second time“ sum up our current plight with these self-centred neighbours.
And as always with covers, my aim is not to get as close as possible to the original, but to transform it into a Karlit-O-Kay sound design.
The picture cover for the song is by German artist Markus Schuke.

Einleitung auf Deutsch:

Letztes Jahr kauften meine Frau und ich an der Ostsee ein Häuschen. Es sollte so etwas wie unser Alters- und Ruhesitz für die nächsten dreißig Jahre werden. 
Leider wurde diese Vision bisher von unseren zunehmend renitenten Nachbarn durchkreuzt. Rücksichtnahme ist für sie ein Fremdwort. Sie lassen ihre Kinder lautstark Basketball spielen, solange die wollen; sie grillen übelriechendes Fleisch, so lange sie wollen und sie machen Party, so lange sie wollen. 
Bittet man sie freundlich um Ruhe, wird man mit Sprüchen wie "Ist uns doch scheißegal", "Ziehen Sie doch weg, wenn es Ihnen nicht paßt" oder "Wir machen, was uns passt" abgefertigt.
In meiner Ohnmacht und Sprachlosigkeit ob dieser dissozialen Dickfelligkeit stieß ich auf einen alten Song der Beatles namens "Not a Second time". Der ist natürlich damals 1963 von John Lennon in einem ganz anderen Zusammenhang komponiert worden.
Seine Textzeilen passen aber ebenso gut zu meinem verzweifelten und bisher weitgehend unerhört gebliebenen Bitten um mehr nachbarschaftliche Rücksichtnahme. – Insbesondere die Zeilen „You're giving me the same old line/ I'm wondering why/You hurt me then/ you're back again/No, no, no, not a second time“ bringen unsere derzeitige Not mit diesen egozentrischen Nachbarn auf den Punkt, 
Und wie stets bei Covern geht es mir nicht darum, dem Original möglichst nahe zu kommen, sondern dieses in ein Karlit-O-Kay- Sounddesign zu transformieren.
Das Bild-Cover zu dem Song stammt von dem deutschen Künstler Markus Schuke.

Not a Second Time

Not A Second Time (Lennon/Mccartney)

Introduction in English:

On a Saturday, 9 June 1989, I receive a phone call from my mother at around 6 am. She seems to be laughing. But as it soon turns out, tears are bursting out of her. At first she can only say one sentence: "Your father is dead". Then her voice fails. I, who has just been roused from my sleep by the ringing, at first think it's a bad joke. My father, not even 55 years old, dead, who had been so full of energy in the last few months? With whom I had spoken lively on the phone just a week ago?
Then my eldest sister comes to the phone. She speaks like a robot, as if she has frozen all her feelings inside herself.
She confirms the sudden death of my father from a heart attack and urges me to come immediately from Berlin to southern Germany (800 kilometres away).
Much of what happened after that - from the last encounter with my father in the morgue, to the years of vacillating between feelings of liberation and sometimes massively frightening "I'll bring you to me in the realm of the dead" nightmares after his funeral, to finding a deeper inner peace with him in the last few years - I wrote down and sang about in the following song "My Father in Heaven".      
However, the song lyrics are not chronological, but set in 2011, in which I am all alone on a beautiful summer day in the cemetery where my father's grave is located. From this day I start a retrospective and an outlook.     

Lyrics:

My Father in Heaven

What a beautiful day
All alone in the graveyard 
Come to visit you
Without a grudge

It's unbelievably quiet
Hear the dead deep asleep 
In an beyond harbour
Be with you soon

I hated you sometimes 
Had you so gladly touched,
You're gone too soon 
Left me alone with the dirt 
Of this life.

Wanted to tell you so much more 
You can't sneak away like that
A moment ago you were still there  
I felt quite close to you,

Now only 
A cold hand in the morgue
Nothing more moves

My father in heaven, 
I miss you very much, 
With wistfulness my heart sometimes
Becomes so heavy

When you were suddenly dead
Many things seemed easier, 
I moved forward in life, 
I looked free

but when I slept at night,
you'd come into my dreams, 
trying to pull me over, 
to the land beyond.

You didn’t let me go for so long 
Lying like a black mourning box
On my chest and belly, 
Felt like I was in a tube 
Trapped by you.

Often couldn’t defend myself
Felt completely without power 
When in the deep of the night
you came to my room, 

without a body, 
pure soul contact,
worlds still unknown to me.

Father in heaven,
do you hear me now,
I speak to you in peace, 
I am no longer hurt.

Your grave is newly decorated,
I've picked a bouquet for you, 
I sit down with you, 
I surrender tot he silence
peaceful silence. 

I am here now, you there
even if the wall separates us,
we see each other invisibly, 
You always stay close to me, 

I'll go on now, 
Stay here, 
I'll be back soon

Father in heaven
I think of you often 
You are indispensable, 
Come with me....

My Father in Heaven

My Father In Heaven

Second part of my father trilogy.
This song is based on a dream I had a good 20 years ago with my father, who had been dead for some time. 
I am in a dimly lit room. It's just me and somehow my father's energy body. At some point, this invisible energy body comes towards me. Then we embrace. It is a merging embrace. Something deep inside me releases and makes me cry. It's not so much a sad cry, but a liberating, soothing cry that pacifies me completely. 
Since this dream, the grudge I harboured against him for a long time has largely disappeared.     
Somehow he has been there inside me since then and I can sometimes visit him (even in dreams) when I want to talk to him.

The arrangement of the song is deliberately minimalist (just vocals, guitar and violin, hardly any effects) in order to emphasise the tremendous intimacy of the encounter between my father and me in the dream described above (there is no longer a "leaf" between us).

My Father  (Lyrics in English)

Would so like to talk to you
Break through the walls to the hereafter
Meet you in a moon cafe
On chairs that stand here and there

You died before the Berlin Wall came down
My son was born on the day you died
Never saw my beautiful wife
Although you had aimed 
For a hundred years of life

You only reached half of it
Life was rarely really easy for you

You were often too close to the stars
Underestimated the danger to your life
Had so many visions
Wanted to live in castles in the air

Then you were all there again
So clairvoyant, wise and clear

Would love to have you with me now
My father, I would love to have you here now 

The dividing wall to you is now open
I haven't met you for so long
You're waiting for me in the moon cafe
I see you in the soft twilight

I want to tell you so many things
What happened after you left
You still wanted to experience it all
Your early death did not grant you that

You were so torn, the demons, they tore at you
You loved the rush, had little sense of yourself

And yet you were in deep distress
My ever-protecting boat
My steadying hand
The lighthouse in my land of chaos

You gave up the shirt off your back
That ultimately cost you your life

Would love to have you with me now
My father, I wish you were here now


Mein Vater (Deutscher Originaltext)

Möchte so gern mit Dir sprechen
Die Mauern zum Jenseits durchbrechen
Dich in einem Mond-Cafe` treffen
Auf Stühlen, die hier und dort stehen

Vor dem (Berliner) Mauerfall bist Du gestorben
An Deinem Todestag wurde mein Sohn geboren
Hast meine schöne Frau niemals erlebt
Dabei hattest Du 
Hundert Jahre Leben angestrebt

Hast grad‘ mal gut die Hälfte davon erreicht
Das Leben war für Dich selten wirklich leicht

Warst oft den Sternen zu nah
Unterschätztest die Lebensgefahr
Hattest so viele Visionen
Wolltest in Luftschlössern wohnen

Dann warst Du wieder ganz da
So hellsichtig, weise und klar

Hätt‘ Dich so gern jetzt bei mir
Mein Vater, hätt‘ Dich jetzt gern hier 

Die Trennwand zu Dir steht jetzt offen
So lange hab‘ ich Dich nicht getroffen
Du wartest im Mond-Cafe‘ auf mich
Ich seh‘ Dich im zarten Dämmerlicht

Ich will Dir so vieles erzählen
Was so geschah nach Deinem Fortgehen
Du wolltest das alles noch erleben
Dein früher Tod hat Dir das nicht vergönnt

Warst so zerrissen, die Dämonen, sie zerrten an Dir
Liebtest den Rausch, hattest für Dich wenig Feingespür

Und dennoch warst Du in tiefer Not
Mein stets mich schützendes Boot
Meine mir haltgebende Hand
Der Leuchtturm in meinem Chaos-Land

Hast Dein letztes Hemd hergegeben
Das kostete Dich letztlich Dein Leben

Hätt‘ Dich so gern jetzt bei mir
Mein Vater, hätt‘ Dich jetzt gern hier

Mein Vater (My Father)

Third part of my father trilogy.
The father trilogy ends with my naïve and youthful attempt, at the age of 23, to break away from my father, who seemed overpowering at the time, and stand on my own two feet: 
To move as far away as possible from my provincial hometown, to throw myself into a Berlin that was completely foreign to me at the time and completely overwhelming. 
My saviour at the time was my oldest friend, who had already been living in Berlin for a few years and took me under his wing like a big brother.     
But even with his help, I soon had to realise that the attempt at a radical inner "patricide" could not succeed in any way. The early imprints he had left on me, the demons I had 'inherited' from him, were all still there. No matter how much I turned my outer life upside down, there was no escape from the central patterns and beliefs that I had learnt from my father in the first 10 years of my life.
In this respect, the song title "The Singular Man" is a "Mission Impossible". It was only three years later, and especially after his early death, that I realised more and more that a lifelong confrontation with my inner father images could lead to a closely linked dialectic:
An ever deeper and visibly more reconciliatory bond with my father and, at the same time, an ever-increasing self-realisation    
 
The Singular Man  (Lyrics in English)

Run through streets crooked and skewed 
The bridges criss-cross

All around me the stink of the city
An army of people everywhere

Turn in somewhere now
Fall in at your door

You are alone
Your corridor infinitely long
Your walls high and wide 
Your front door broad and welcoming

You push me through the corridor now 
At the windows the siren-
song

I get scared and bang 
Am I still
Your catch of fish
Your silhouette
That only plays at being free

And yet I have escaped you 
Escaped!

I take off all hinges
Hang out the windows
Make me a magic wand
Grey Berlin becomes a colourful bouquet for me 

Ride on a peacock wheel
Take a foam spring bath in the Spree

All light 
Time thrown into the air

Pain-free in a glittering dress
An ecstatic feeling of life

But something pushes back
Under the carpet lies the hanging rope
The spider's web is
Still there
The old danger

I only know about her now 
Keep me out of her more 

Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man
Man Oh man, the singular man


Der Singuläre Mann (Deutscher Originaltext)

Lauf’ durch Straßen krumm und schief, 
Die Brücken kreuz und quer

Um mich herum der Großstadtmief
Überall ein Menschen-Heer

Bieg' irgendwo jetzt ein
Fall’ bei Dir zur Tür herein

Du bist allein
Dein  Flur unendlich lang
Deine Wände hoch und weit 
Deine Eingangstür willkommens-breit

Schiebst mich jetzt durch den Gang 
An den Fenstern der Sirenen-
Gesang

Mir wird Angst und Bang 
Bin ich immer noch
Dein Fischfang
Dein Schattenbild
Das das Freisein nur spielt

Und doch bin ich Dir entflohen 
Entflohen!

Lege alle Scharniere ab
Häng' die Fenster aus
Bastle mir einen Zauberstab
Grau-Berlin wird mir zum bunten Strauß 

Fahr auf nem‘ Pfauenrad
Nehm‘ in der Spree ein Schaum-Frühlingsbad

Alles leicht 
In die Luft geworfene Zeit

Schmerzbefreit im Glitzerkleid
Ein rauschhaftes Lebensgefühl

Doch etwas drängt zurück
Unterm Teppich liegt der Häng‘-Dich-Strick
Das Spinnennetz ist
Immer noch da
Die alte Gefahr

Kenn‘ mich jetzt nur mit ihr aus 
Halt mich mehr aus ihr raus 

Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann
Mann Oh Mann, der Singuläre Mann

Der Singulare Mann (The Singular Man)

Der Singuläre Mann (The Singular Man)

Help!

Introduction in English

Sometimes I have to smile a little when I think about the fact that John Lennon was only 24 years old when he wrote these lyrics. 
He certainly didn't know about the cries for help that come with ageing from 60 plus. The experience of gradual physical decline and the increasing dependence on the support of other people. The gradual loss of autonomy, which is so important for one's own dignity. And the subliminal threat of retirement and nursing homes approaching, which then temporarily pulls you out of your increasing mental derangement by singing old Beatles songs.
But apart from that, he certainly already knew a lot about the hardships of being different, of not belonging; the longing to experience something like love in the worldwide recognition and at the same time having to suffocate and drown in this wave of adoration. 
In the pop era of the time, his desperate cry for help was reduced to a tolerable two minutes
I turned it into a leisurely three-minute waltz. And tried to express my increasing need for help in certain areas of life in different ways: shy and fragile, desperate and humble, angry and almost accusatory. 
And towards the end, I find myself in an almost otherworldly limbo in which a part of me comes to peace with the cry for help and finds its own new dignity in it.

Einführung auf Deutsch
Manchmal muß ich ein wenig schmunzeln, wenn ich daran denke, dass John Lennon erst 24 Jahre alt war, als er diesen Songtext schrieb. 
Da wusste er mit Sicherheit noch nichts von den Hilferufen, die mit dem Älterwerden ab 60 plus einhergehen. Die Erfahrung des allmählichen körperlichen Zerfalls und die sich zunehmend anschleichende Angewiesenheit auf die Unterstützung von anderen Menschen. Der allmähliche Verlust von Autonomie, der für die eigene Würde so wichtig ist. Und das unterschwellig drohende Herannahen von Senioren- und Pflegeheimen, die einem dann mit dem Singen von alten Beatles-Songs vorübergehend aus der zunehmenden geistigen Umnachtung herausreißen.
Aber abgesehen davon wußte er sicher schon viel von den Nöten des Andersseins, des nicht dazu gehörens; der Sehnsucht, in der weltweiten Anerkennung so etwas wie Liebe zu erfahren und zugleich in dieser Verehrungswelle geradezu ersticken und ertrinken zu müssen. 
In der damaligen Pop-Zeit wurde sein verzweifelter Hilferuf auf allseits erträgliche gut zwei Minuten eingedampft.
Ich habe daraus einen gut dreiminütigen gemächlichen Walzer gemacht. Und dabei versucht, meine in gewissen Lebensbereichen zunehmende Hilfsbedürftigkeit auf verschiedene Weise auszudrücken: Scheu und zerbrechlich, verzweifelt und demütig, wütend und beinahe anklagend. 
Und zum Ende hin befinde ich mich in einer fast schon jenseitigen Zwischenwelt, in der ein Teil in mir mit dem Hilferuf in Frieden kommt und darin eine eigene neue Würde findet.

Help!

Help! (Lennon/Mccartney)

Introduction in English

Many of them were persecuted, oppressed, tortured or even murdered. 
But many of them escaped their perpetrators and potential butchers and emerged even stronger from these struggles for survival. 
And especially at a time when the tyrannical powers are raising their heads again, when a repressive right-wing shift is taking place all over the world, they are more important than ever;
In their unmistakable clarity, their healthy stubbornness, their intuitive knowledge to protect the all-encompassing love and vitality in the world from the destructive forces of fascist systems.
With my song I want to encourage all free spirits to show themselves even more and to go forward. And I want to encourage all listeners of this song to open up more to their own free-spirited side.

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Free spirits

They never let themselves be bent
Never let any repression get them down

They have a keen sense
For what is real or just false adornment

They follow their own tracks
They tick according to their own clocks

They are with themselves and yet open-minded
They change and remain true to themselves

Often stand on their head
Don't like to swim with

Every ancient braid
Is sprayed with color
Until it burns out

Free spirits
Are still 
In this land

Free spirits
Not all 
Have they
Banished, Burnt

Free spirits
Have 
Survived the hells
And lay down in the light unbreakable

They dream with their eyes open
Make a thousand mistakes, seem to be no good

Are often still unrecognized, banished from the grill plate
Yet they sparkle beneath the sand  

They are often underestimated
Violated in their dignity
Abandoned in the forest by the mainstream
They wear orchids 
Can see in the dark
Can walk blind on clouds

Are outraged alive
Say out loud what bothers them

Are driven by love
For themselves, the humans and the world

Free spirits
Are still 
In this land

Free spirits
Not all 
Have they
Banished, Burnt

Free spirits
Have 
Survived the hells
And lay down in the light unbreakable
lay down in the light
lay down in the light
Lay
Down
In
The 
Lieght

Deutscher Originaltext:

Freigeister

Sie lassen sich niemals verbiegen
Von keiner Repression unterkriegen

Sie haben ein feines Gespür
Für das was echt ist oder nur falsche Zier

Sie folgen Ihren eigenen Spuren
Sie ticken nach Ihren eigenen Uhren

Sie sind bei sich und doch aufgeschlossen
Sie wandeln sich und bleiben sich treu

Stehen oft auf dem Kopf
Schwimmen ungerne mit

Jeder uralte Zopf
Wird mit Farbe besprüht
Bis er verglüht

Freigeister
Sind noch immer 
In diesem Land

Freigeister
Nicht alle 
Haben sie
Verbannt, Verbrannt

Freigeister
Haben 
Die Hölllen überlebt
Und sich unkaputtbar in das Licht gelegt

Sie träumen mit offenen Augen
Machen tausend Fehler, scheinen nichts zu taugen

Werden oft noch verkannt, vom Grillteller verbannt
Dennoch funkeln sie unter dem Sand  

Gerne werden sie unterschätzt
In ihrer Würde verletzt
Vom Mainstream im Wald ausgesetzt
Sie tragen Orchideen 
Können im Dunkeln sehen
Können auf Wolken blind gehen

Sind lebendig empört
Sagen laut, was sie stört

Sind von Liebe getrieben
Für sich, die Menschheit und die Welt

Freigeister
Sind noch immer 
In diesem Land

Freigeister
Nicht alle 
Haben sie
Verbannt, Verbrannt

Freigeister
Haben 
Die Hölllen überlebt
Und sich unkaputtbar in das Licht gelegt
In das Licht gelegt
In das Licht gelegt
In 
Das
Licht
Gelegt

Freigeister (Free Spirits)

Introduction in English:
For many, November is the worst month. I particularly like it because it is the month that best expresses the Buddhist mantra of "And the end is the beginning". In November, almost all the trees are bare and most plants have faded. But in this "destruction" lies the seed of new life. 
November is the month that most clearly demonstrates that we sometimes have to radically let go of beliefs and attitudes that no longer help us move forward so that we can reposition ourselves and continue to develop.
And this month also makes it clear that we must fully accept dying and death as facts in order to keep the flywheel of life, which goes far beyond us, running. 
At the age of 60, I am still in the "October of life". However, October is already knocking strongly on the door of the unstoppable transformation processes that reach their climax in November. 
The song "Autumn is here" summarises these thoughts in the form of a French chanson. I chose this form because, in my view, the French language and the genre of the chanson come closest to the basic existential themes of life.

Lyrics in English (For those, who don’t speak French)

Autumn is here

Everything falls, nothing holds
Nothing stands, it's already late
The green turns gray, the weather wet and rough
The flock of birds moves away into the warm blue

This morning I was full of energy
Tonight I'm tired
My garden of life will soon be withered
One little spark still glows
That still drives me and pulls me forward 

Autumn is here
The gray hair
Lies damp in the drain sieve

Autumn is here
The cataract
looks at me in the mirror

The fields are bare
The faces pale
The tree trunk breaks
In the middle of the poem

The clock runs down
The meadow lies fallow

The car groans
The eye runs and tears

The children look pityingly
The morning sun grins
Nothing you can gain 
Gain
The raven peeks
Around the corner, nods at you

Französischer Originaltext:

L'automne est là

Oui, tout tombe
Rien qui tienne
Il n'y a plus rien
C'est déjà tard

Le vert devient gris
Le temps humide et rude
La nuée d'oiseaux 
S'en va vers le bleu chaud

Ce matin, j'étais à fond
Ce soir, je suis fatigué
Le jardin de ma vie 
va bientôt se faner

Une dernière étincelle brille
qui me pousse et m'entraîne en avant

L'automne est là
Les cheveux gris
Se trouve dans le siphon

L'automne est là
La cataracte se rapproche
Me regarde dans le miroir
L'automne est là

Les champs sont nus
Les visages sont pâles
Le billot se brise
Au cœur du récit

L'horloge retarde
Le fond du pré est en friche
La voiture gémit
Les yeux sont pleins de pus

Les enfants regardent avec pitié
Le soleil matinal se moque de toi
Il n'y a rien d'autre que tu puisses gagner
Le corbeau regarde 
Au coin et il te fait un signe de tête

L'automne est la (Autumn is here)

Introduction in English:
One of my oldest friends was diagnosed with Asperger's autism as a teenager. And almost everyone told him that he would have to stay alone for the rest of his life because he was incapable of love and relationships due to his illness. 
He also increasingly gave up hope that he would ever be able to find a life partner. He often described to me with sorrow that he kept falling in love and longed for a romantic relationship, but that he often felt like he was under a glass bell, which cut him off from closer contact with women. 
And when he had already let go of the hope of ever finding a woman at his side, he met "Lilli" at the age of almost 60; a woman who, like him, is very unique and has been described by many people around her as quite quirky and eccentric.
The lyrics to this wonderfully unconventional love affair make use of many metaphors and symbols from the world of plants and nature. It is also the way Freddy & Lilli often communicate with each other, as they find direct communication too threatening.
I hope that my song Freddy & Lilli will help the two of them to grow old together lovingly. And basically that the song will give hope to all those who are currently lonely and longing for an intimate partnership.

Lyrics in English_

Freddy & Lilli

The rapeseed fields are wide
The yellow light, it scatters
The streets are blue
The morning dew glistens peacefully

The fences open
No more curtains
The entrance is free
The birds make themselves heard

And the trees are full of stories for you
They bend down their branches
And they carry you gently through the first night of love

Freddy & Lilli
Mmh, Mmh, Mmh, Mmh

The rock gardens are
Blind in the bloom of love
Their time is over
From deep below a cry

That bursts the deathbed
That receives first life
The asbestos carpet breaks

A face slips up and it speaks:
Let the armour of gold come off
Let us kneel down
Feel the grace of the sparkle
Protected by the moss forest
Be a bridge of light

Freddy & Lilli
Mmh, Mmh, Mmh, Mmh

Deutscher Originaltext:

Freddy & Lilli

Die Rapsfelder sind weit
Das Gelblicht, es streut
Die Strassen sind blau
Friedlich glänzt der Morgentau

Die Zäune gehen auf
Keine Vorhänge mehr
Der Einlaß ist frei
Die Vögel verschaffen sich Gehör

Und die Bäume sind voll von Geschichten für Euch
Sie neigen ihre Äste herab
Und sie tragen Euch sanft durch die erste Liebesnacht

Freddy & Lilli
Mmh, Mmh, Mmh, Mmh

Die Steingärten sind
Im Liebesblühn‘ blind
Ihre Zeit ist vorbei
Von tief unten ein Schrei

Der das Totenbett sprengt
Erstes Leben empfängt
Der Asbestteppich bricht

Ein Gesicht schlüpft empor und es spricht:

Laß‘ den Goldpanzer ziehn‘
Lass uns niederknien
Die Gnade des Funkens verspürn‘
Vom Mooswald beschützt
Eine Leuchtbrücke sein

Freddy & Lilli
Mmh, Mmh, Mmh, Mmh

Freddy & Lilli

Introduction in English:
Some of my friends accuse me of having a longing for death or even of glorifying death. In fact, I often deal with death in my lyrics - as I do in this song and the whole album that will be released in the next 12 to 15 months. 
But as with previous songs, I always say that I can enjoy life all the more by fully accepting death as an inevitable reality. Many people who try to suppress this fact constantly feel an underlying, agonising fear that tends to keep them away from the wonderful aspects of life. 
In addition, recognising that death is a constant companion from birth leads to even more profound gratitude for every day that I am allowed to live. 
The song ‘Rendezvous with Death’ was written at a time when I was at an important turning point in my life. During this phase, I realised that I had to let some things ‘die’ in order to continue living well. In this respect, this in-depth rendezvous was necessary in order to move forward again. Another example of how death and life are inextricably linked.


Lyrics in English

Rendezvous with Death

The dead comes very quietly
He sneaks up behind you unnoticed
He has stolen your lifelong dream
So don't even start making plans for the future

In the most beautiful kiss he takes your joy
In the greatest rush of life he simply unplugs you

He cradles you gently in his lap, lulls your mind, sings you to sleep
Before you awake, he draws you all the way in to himself 

He is waiting for you in the treetop 
Lean in, he takes you to himself
With every branch he has already grasped you
The dead

Deutscher Originaltext

Rendezvous mit dem Tod

Der Tod kommt auf ganz leisen Sohlen
Er schleicht sich unbemerkt von hinten an
Er hat Dir Deinen Lebentraum gestohlen
Drum‘ fang‘ erst gar nicht mit Zukunftsplänen an

Im schönsten Kuss nimmt er Dir Deine Freude
Im größten Rausch des Lebens stöpselt er Dich einfach aus

Er wiegt Dich sanft in seinem Schoß, lullt Dich ein, singt Dich in den Schlaf
Bevor Du erwachst zieht er Dich ganz zu sich hinein 

In der Baumkrone erwartet er Dich 
Lehn Dich an, er nimmt Dich zu sich
Mit jedem Ast hat er Dich schon erfasst
Der Tod

Rendezvous mit dem Tod (Rendezvous with the dead)

Rendez-vous mit dem Tod (Rendez-vous with Death)

Introduction in English:

Manfred (‘Manne’) was my oldest friend. We used to play together in the sandpit. 
We were both very contrasting characters. I was ambitious for a long time and wanted to excel through special achievements. Manne, on the other hand, preached idleness and complete freedom from pressure even as a teenager.  He often laughed at me from his lotus position when I got bogged down in something. I secretly admired him for his attitude of pure being and complete freedom from purpose. 
Through him, I learnt about the benefits of slowness and pausing. And he was a sensitive companion when I came into contact with certain drugs such as cannabis, alcohol and cocaine in my early adulthood.     
Unfortunately, from his mid 20s onwards, he tipped more and more towards the destructive side of drug use. During this time, we both drifted further and further apart. The last time I saw him, he seemed like a wreck to me. I could already sense that things weren't going to be good with him for much longer. 
Nevertheless, I was shocked when I learnt of his early death at the age of just 31. 
Since then, I have visited his grave every year and see how many beautiful aspects of him live on in his son, who is my nephew. 
With this song, I would like to honour him with my own personal musical memorial.   

Lyrics in English (for those, who don`t speak German):

Manne Manne

Manne Manne, it hurts so much
Because I just don't quite understand
That you left so soon
You pissed off from one day to the next

Manne Manne, you were such a cool hero
In your anti-achievement world
Instead of storm and stress in a noble snail's pace
A bohemian with a song of lullabies

Believed in you for a long time,
In your ‘Let yourself go’ poem
Your vision of life without haste

Without any pressure and stressful scabies
Just stay lying there
Behind misty coloured windows
Against the compulsion to do!

Manne manne, you were once so beautiful
You could turn women's heads
With your deeply chilled charm
Even the proudest lay in your arms

Manne Manne, master of slowness
Of ‘I don't have to do anything, I always have time’
Of life beyond ‘Nine to Five’
Of twilight sleep in the realm of night owls

Lord of the drug world
Herring-hook-less tent
Invited us into

Strange magic worlds
Where no rules apply
Into dark shadowy spaces
Gave us a light there

Manne Manne, it hurts so much
Because I never quite understand
That you went down like that
I've missed you a few times

Manne Manne, I`ve dreamt of you sometimes
Damn, I missed it somehow
To stop your self-dissolution programme
At the last meeting it was already much too late

Manne Manne
Manne Manne
Manne Manne
 
 




Manne Manne

Introduction in English:

Sometimes I wonder if there is some kind of ‘safe place’ in this world. Everywhere I look: Wars, climate disasters, starvation and poverty. Not to mention the increasing everyday violence at home, in the neighbourhood and on the streets.
As early as 1962, John Lennon described in the song ‘There's a Place’ (perhaps also under the impression of the Cuban Missile Crisis at the time with the acute threat of a third world war) that sometimes the only thing left to do is to retreat to an inner safe place when the outside world (as is now increasingly the case again) is increasingly on the brink of an abyss.
In this respect, this song is highly topical, although I would like to add that the search for the inner safe place should only ever be temporary, in order to regain strength there (for example through one's own musical creativity) in order to make a greater contribution to the preservation of the earth and human coexistence in the outer world.
I am sure that John Lennon meant this kind of fluid balance between gathering oneself inwardly and being lovingly in the world.       

Introduction in German:

Manchmal frage ich mich, ob es auf dieser Welt eine Art "Sicherer Ort" gibt. Wo ich hinschaue: Kriege, Klimakatastrophen, Hungern und Armut. Ganz zu schweigen von der zunehmenden alltäglichen Gewalt zu Hause, in der Nachbarschaft und auf den Strassen.
John Lennon hat (vielleicht auch unter dem Eindruck der damaligen Kuba-Krise mit akuter Dritte Weltkriegsgefahr) in dem Song "There's a Place" schon 1962 beschrieben, dass einem manchmal nur der Rückzug an einen inneren sicheren Ort verbleibt, wenn die äußere Welt (wie jetzt zusehends wieder) zusehends an einem Abgrund steht.
Insofern ist dieser Song brandaktuell, wobei ich hinzufügen möchte, dass das Aufsuchen des inneren sicheren Ortes immer wieder nur vorübergehend erfolgen sollte, um dort (etwa über eigenes musikalisches Schaffen) wieder Kraft zu sammeln, um in der äußeren Welt verstärkt einen eigenen Beitrag zum Erhalt der Erde und des menschlichen Miteinanders zu leisten.
Ich bin mir sicher, dass John Lennon diese Art von Fließgleichgewicht zwischen sich innerlich sammeln und liebevoll in der Welt sein gemeint hat.              


There`s a place (Lennon/Mccartney)

Quite consciously I post this song to the 1.1. of the new year. With this love song, written in three languages, I want to make a small contribution that the year 2019 will lead to more attentiveness towards nature and the people among each other. 
At the same time it is also my little musical gift to all SoundCloud users who supported me in my first year of membership so respectfully and appreciatively with my music projects.
With the lyrics and the musical arrangement I try to express how I understand love: tender, graceful and beautiful, generous, passionate, deep and full of gentle power and strength in giving.   

Lyrics: If you want * Si tu veux * Wenn Du willst

In English:

If you want, I'll always be there for you.
If you want, I'll always be close to you.
If you want, I can kiss you everywhere full of love, 
Full of tenderness,
and intimacy 
If you want, I just will love you forever.
limitless, until eternity
Yeah, just you, no one else, I'm ready

In French:

Si tu veux, je suis toujours là pour toi.
Si tu veux, je suis toujours près de toi.
Si tu veux, je t'embrasser partout plein d'amour, 
Pleine de tendresse avec intimité 
Si tu veux, je t'aimerai pour toujours.
Sans limites, jusqu'à l'éternité
Oui, juste toi, rien d'autre, je suis prêt.

In German:

Wenn Du willst, bin ich immer für Dich da
Wenn Du willst, bin ich Dir stets ganz nah
Wenn Du willst, küß`ich Dich überall voller Liebe, 
Voller Zärtlichkeit und Innigkeit 
wenn Du willst, werde ich Dich unendlich lang lieben
grenzenlos, bis in die Ewigkeit
ja, nur Dich, niemand sonst, bin bereit

If You Want  *  Si Tu Veux *  Wenn Du Willst

When I appeared at the end of the 1980s as a wannabe- Klaus Kinski and "party scare" with Rimbaud and Villon texts on birthday celebrations, I always had the wonderful poem by the German cabaret artist and writer Hanns Dieter Hüsch "Ich sing` für die Verrückten" (I sing for the Crazy) in my repertoire. 
That is a long time back, but a few weeks ago I was jamming on guitar and percussion with some members of the "Berliner Irrenoffensive" as part of my voluntary work. And in this creative and crazy atmosphere this poem came to my mind again. I translated central parts of it into English and added some small language elements matching the melody and the sound of the song.   
The result was this track, with which I want to bring the deeply sensitive and timeless lyrics of Hanns Dieter Hüsch into memory and even more into the world. And with which I would like to contribute to even more understanding for the often so hard fate of people with serious mental disorders.   

Lyrics:

I Sing for the Crazy

I sing for the crazy
the sideways twisted
those who fall forward one day
unnoticed by everyone

Sit in their kitchens
not to be of use
to any world view

Who roam cities for days on end
without any sense
who throw themselves from the steeple
spice the world up with laughter

And for death in time 
ring their own bells

Those who hurry with trains
to stay nowhere too long

Who know every farewell at close hand

Because they call life goodbye

Who are hired out on the ships
and sing songs with the kids

Those who seek and never find
and disappear from the face of the earth at night

The guards are ready with jackets
in order to pack
the stray ones in the right way

Jumping friendly on roofs
and who die
In the great deserts

The skull already full
of broken pieces

The sand will soon cover all traces

Who push their way through
the raw thicket

Sore and sick rubbed by madness
who look through the jungle of all souls

All that dizziness on their back
I sing fort he crazy

I sing for the crazy
sing for the crazy
sing for them all

Sing for the crazy
sing for their peace 
sing for their souls

Aaaaaaah
sing for the crazy
sing for them all

I Sing For The Crazy

Fortunately, there are many good mothers and increasingly also good fathers in the world. However, there are exceptions to this rule. In the case of fathers, these exceptions have been seen for some time and violent fathers in particular are sanctioned more quickly and the affected children are better protected from them. 
Violent mothers are still a big taboo topic. This may have something to do with the fact that they usually express their violence more covertly and subtly than violent fathers. 
The following song is based on numerous experiences of children who have become victims of maternal violence. Representative for this is a story told by a 12-year-old boy who fled from his violent mother to his father (both parents had been separated for a long time).   

Mother Violence

Glassy eyes, frightened look
Pale face, far removed from happiness

Early adult, was never a child
Was mother's slave, repressed whirlwind

His own will was broken, forbidden to resist
Every no from him was punished 
Futile pleading

Subtle, hidden and cold
Mother Violence

Neighbors all look the other way
Just hands off the dirt

Remember, moms are just sweet
Violence never comes from mothers, the fathers are the swines
Step up to the lying club, come in, let the doubt be, don't want to be Outside, otherwise you will become the swine

Locked up in the cellar, deportation arrest.
At night on the street, so scared to death

Top-Secret blows, was always to blame
Always mental torture, day-to-day turmoil

One day he broke out from home, fled to his good father
Seemed liberated, but next morning a hangover came 

Subtle, hidden and cold
Mother Violence

Outwardly quite sweet and nice, she pulled her spider's web 
Around his exile
Youth Welfare fell for her, saw only her saint`s shine

The blind choir sang: 
Only fathers can be perpetrators, mothers are so weak and small. 

Subtle, hidden and cold
Mother Violence
Subtle, hidden and cold
Mother Violence
Subtle, hidden and cold,
Mother Violence

Mother Violence

Again and again I have to painfully observe that women who want to live their own potentials, their autonomy, their creativity or other strengths, are discriminated against in a concealed or sometimes blatant way. In spite of the important feminist-emancipatory movements, especially in the last 50 years, in many areas of life the classical division of roles - men make the rational, women the emotional labor - still exists. Women who want to free themselves from these rigid role attributions are no longer burned at the stake, as they were in the Middle Age (and some women into the late 19th century!). However, they are often “removed” verbally or physically in other, more perfidious ways. 
This song is a blazing plea for a really profound change in social conditions, which not only offer a few exceptions, but basically women the possibility to find their own autonomous strength.     
And it is also a song for my wife, who is a very strong woman and who is repeatedly attacked for her courage, clarity, inventiveness and assertiveness. 
And it is my deep musical bow to Hypatia of Alexandria, Hildegard von Bingen, Émilie du Châtelet, Mary Wollstonecraft, Simone Weil, Harriet Taylor Mill, Hannah Arendt, Simone de Beauvoir, Donna Haraway, Judith Butler and other great thinkers for achieving the goal of "equality and dignity for all people".


Lyrics in English:

Strong Women

So often burned
Banished to islands
Gladly misjudged as poisonous snakes
Still not recognized today

Are very wise and self-confident
Full of self-will and joie de vivre
Are the weak man's constant frustration

If they ever want to go upstairs
The repression gets under way
Embarrass, ostracize, paralyze them, till they leave

Hey, strong women come out
Put out the men's straw fires
Yes, I love you all

The Middle Age is still there
Seems so distant, but is so close
Subtle strong women are still in danger of death

I may be a man, but I'm also a woman
Strong women know that very well
The lie of "man" and "woman" is something they've long seen through

Often have the big ideas
But the men become luminaries
The "Adams" leave them in kitchen handcuffs

Hey, strong women come out
Put out the men's straw fires
Yes, I love you all.

Outro:

Hey, I love you all...
Please come out...

Deutscher Originaltext:

Starke Frauen

So oft verbrannt
Auf Inseln verbannt
Gerne als Giftschlangen verkannt
Bis heute noch nicht anerkannt

Sind sehr klug und selbstbewußt
Voller Eigenwillen und Lebenslust
Sind des schwachen Mannes Dauerfrust

Wenn Sie mal nach oben wollen
Kommt die Repression ins Rollen
Beschämen, verfemen, lähmen, bis sie gehen

Hey, starke Frauen kommt heraus
Macht die Männer-Strohfeuer aus
Ja, ich lieb` Euch alle

Das Mittelalter ist noch da
Scheint so fern, doch ist ganz nah
Subtil sind starke Frauen noch immer in Lebensgefahr

Bin zwar ein Mann, doch zugleich ne` Frau
Starke Frauen wissen das ganz genau
Die Lüge von “Mann” und “Frau” ham`se` längst durchschaut

Haben oft die großen Ideen
Doch die Männer werden zu Koryphäen
Die “Adams” lassen sie in Küchen-Handschellen stehen

Hey, starke Frauen kommt heraus
Macht die Männer-Strohfeuer aus
Ja, ich lieb` Euch alle

Outro:

Ich lieb` Euch alle…
Bitte kommt heraus

Starke Frauen (Strong Women)

Starke Frauen (Strong Women) (Engl. Lyrics In The Intro)

More and more people are complaining about sleep disorders. Perhaps it is because the world is becoming more and more complex and confusing; that continuous support and security in loving relationships or in safe places is becoming increasingly rare. 
This lullaby is an attempt to create a trance-like, devotional atmosphere, which is a prerequisite for slipping into a deep, restful sleep. In all steps - from composing to mixing - I have always imagined holding a fearful, troubled child in my arms and carefully lulling it until it falls asleep again.
And it is a now almost universally accepted knowledge of sleep psychology that deep, restful sleep is based on trusting inner bonding: An inner loving parent accompanies the inner child so empathetically that it can devote itself completely to a pleasant sleep.
For me, French is the language that is best suited to lead someone who lies awake at night to sleep (again) with appropriate tender words. 

Lyrics in English:

If you can't sleep at night

If you can't sleep at night 
Just listen to that song

Lean gently against a wall 
and wait until your eyelids

Gain weight 
Lead you back to sleep

Imagine me lying beside you
You snuggle up to me

When nightmares come to you 
Then hum that song softly

I will accompany you on the steps 
Until it happens to you

That sleep carries you
The Soul Storm is calming down again

We go to the dormitory together 
Just blindly understand each other there

Each other there 
Each other there
Each other there

Lyrics in French:

Si tu ne peux pas dormir la nuit

Si tu ne peux pas dormir la nuit 
Juste écouter cette chanson.

Appuie-toi doucement sur un mur 
Et attend après que tes paupières

deviennent de plus en plus lourdes
te ramènent au sommeil

Imagine, je suis allongé à côté de toi
Tu te blottis dans mes bras

Quand les cauchemars te hantent 
Puis fredonnez calmement cette chanson

Je t'accompagne sur les marches 
Jusqu'à que ça t'arrive

Le sommeil te porte
La tempête des âmes s'apaisera à nouveau

Nous allons ensemble dans la chambre à coucher 
il y a une compréhension aveugle entre nous deux

Entre nous deux
Entre nous deux
Entre nous deux

Si tu ne peux pas dormir la nuit (If you can`t sleep at night)

Si Tu Ne Peux Pas Dormir La Nuit (If You Can`t Sleep At Night) (Engl. Lyrics In Intro)

For me sovereignty means: to stand back without taking off. Having an overview, a vision, a prudence and at the same time remaining in a deep connection with what I am currently looking at;
means for me: to float, a kind of flying, like becoming an eagle and at the same moment a centipede, who feels with every touch the earth that carries me;
means for me: to know my own possibilities and limits well, like a tightrope walker balancing the antinomies of life;
means for me: to become silent, to be peacefully still, to act and express myself by simply being there....and so it comes that this song gets along without words.   
While recording this song I imagined myself sitting on a mountain; completely alone and totally connected to what surrounds me. 
I hope that some of the sovereignty, as I understand it, comes across in this purely instrumental track.

Einleitung in deutscher Sprache:

Souveränität heißt für mich: Abstand nehmen, ohne abzuheben. Einen Überblick, eine Weitsicht, eine Umsichtigkeit haben und zugleich in einer tiefen Verbundenheit mit dem bleiben, was ich gerade betrachte;
heißt für mich: schweben, eine Art fliegen, wie zu einem Adler werden und im selben Moment ein Tausendfüßler sein, der mit jeder Berührung die Erde spürt, die mich trägt;
heißt für mich: Die eigenen Möglichkeiten und Grenzen gut kennen, wie ein Seiltänzer die Antinomien des Lebens austarieren;
heißt für mich: still werden, friedvoll schweigen, durch einfaches dasein wirken und sich ausdrücken.....und so kommt es, daß dieser Song mal ganz ohne Worte auskommt.   
Bei der Aufnahme dieses Songs habe ich mir vorgestellt, auf einem Berg zu sitzen; völlig alleine und völlig verbunden mit dem, was mich umgibt. 
Ich hoffe, daß von der Souveränität, wie ich sie verstehe, ein wenig in diesem reinen Instrumental-Track rüberkommt.

Souvereignty

Sovereignty

....My musical associations to the process of dying...

...Meine musikalischen Assoziationen zum Prozess des Sterbens....

Dying

What would John Lennon have said at that time? Late last year, I was strumming away on my son's keyboard some weekend. And somehow the old chords of the legendary Lennon song "Nowhere Man" came along. As if he had commissioned me to do it, I then developed my own version of this classic. 
The first three lines of the ingenious song lyrics alone get to the heart of how more or less everyone might feel in this time of transition, where no one really knows where the journey is going.  

Was hätte wohl John Lennon zu dieser Zeit gesagt? Ende letzten Jahres klimperte ich an irgendeinem Wochenende auf dem Keyboard meines Sohnes herum. Und irgendwie kamen die alten Akkorde des  legendären Lennon-Songs "Nowhere Man" daher. Als hätte er mich damit beauftragt, entwickelte ich daraufhin meine eigene Version dieses Klassikers. 
Allein die ersten drei Zeilen des genialen Liedtextes bringen auf den Punkt, wie sich mehr oder weniger jeder in dieser Übergangszeit fühlen mag, in der keiner so recht weiß, wohin die Reise geht.

Nowhere Mann

Nowhere Man (Cover-Version)

Deutscher Singer-Songwriter über fünfzig Jahre alt. Seit fast vierzig Jahren schreibe und singe ich Lieder. Mein Hauptinstrument ist die akustische Gitarre, aber ich mag auch Perkussionsinstrumente (Cajon, Maracas, Gurio). Ich liebe es, melancholische und poetische Balladen zu komponieren. Aber manchmal schreibe ich auch (schwarze) humorvolle Songs, Jazzstyle und -Rocksongs. Meine Hauptsprache ist Deutsch. Aber in Zukunft will ich mehr Songs auf Englisch und vereinzelt auch Französisch schreiben.
In meinen Kompositionen bin ich inspiriert von Leonard Cohen, John Lennon, Jacques Brel, Van Morrison und Bob Dylan. Auf meinen Platten spiele und singe ich alles alleine. Meine Vision für die Zukunft ist es, Musiker aus verschiedenen Kulturen zu finden, die gerne ihre Tracks mit mir teilen wollen.
Mein persönliches Mantra ist ein Satz, der von Paul Mccartney auf dem Beatles-Album "Abbey Road auf dem Track "In the end" vor fast Fünfzig Jahren geschrieben wurde:

Die Liebe, die Du bekommst ist gleich der Liebe, die Du gibst.

German singer-songwriter over fifty years old. For almost forty years I have been writing and singing songs. My main instrument is the acoustic guitar, but I also like percussion instruments (Cajon, Maracas, Gurio). I love composing melancholic and poetic ballads. But sometimes I also write (black) humorous songs, jazz style and rock songs. My main language is German. But in the future I want to write more songs in English and occasionally also in French.
In my compositions I am inspired by Leonard Cohen, John Lennon, Jacques Brel, Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. On my records I play and sing all by myself. My vision for the future is to find musicians from different cultures who would like to share their tracks with me.
My personal mantra is a sentence written by Paul Mccartney on the Beatles album "Abbey Road on the track "In the end" almost fifty years ago:

The love you take is equal to the love you make.

Karlit-O-Kay (K-O-K)

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