My musical associations to the theme "competition"

Mission Competition

Introduction in English:

My uncle, who became a sort of surrogate father to me after my father's untimely death, celebrates his 91st birthday in July. His wife had passed away some time ago and he had been single ever since. 
About five years ago, he visibly harbored the intention of ending his life in Switzerland with active euthanasia. 
Then, surprisingly, an elderly lady (about five years younger than him) moved into the apartment next door. She had also been widowed for some time.
Both got to know each other and fell in love. 
And even today they seem to be freshly in love with each other when I visit and they are sitting snuggled up on my uncle's old sofa. 
A scene that gives me hope and shows me that love can "catch" you even in old age. 
And a scene that was the starting point for the creation of the song "I`m in Love" posted here.  

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

I`m in Love

First verse:

I had already counted the days one by one,
I struggled out of bed every morning
Went all crooked and awry 
Had long since lost my hair

In Switzerland I had already ordered my coffin
For my gradual departure from the world
My heart pacemaker gave me the last groove

But suddenly a neighbor moved in
As wrinkled as me
In her nature beautiful and fine
I put down my suitcase for Switzerland for now

Second verse:

The next day she knocked on my door
She imagined she was here forever now
In her old eyes I saw the young woman

How she walked, how she sat, how she read in the newspaper
Her décolleté behind folds shapely and delicate
Her grace, elegance, like a lustful silent dance

Before she left again she embraced me 
My dusty self was enchanted
Instead of abandonment and renunciation a love poem flowed through me





Introduction in German:

Mein Onkel, der nach dem frühen Tod meines Vaters eine Art Ersatzvater für mich geworden ist, feiert im Juli seinen 91. Geburtstag. Seine Frau war schon länger verstorben und er seitdem alleinstehend. 
Vor ca. fünf Jahren  hegte er zusehends die Absicht, seinem Leben in der Schweiz mit aktiver Sterbehilfe ein Ende zu setzen. 
Dann zog überraschend eine ältere Dame (etwa fünf Jahre jünger als er) in die Nachbarswohnung ein. Auch sie war schon längere Zeit verwitwet.
Beide lernten sich kennen und verliebten sich ineinander. 
Und auch heute noch wirken Sie wie frisch verliebt ineinander, wenn ich Sie besuche und sie eng aneinander geschmiegt auf dem alten Sofa meines Onkels sitzen. 
Eine Szene, die mir Hoffnung macht und mir zeigt, dass die Liebe einen auch noch im hohen Alter "erwischen" kann. 
Und eine Szene, die den Ausgangspunkt für die Entstehung des hier geposteten Songs "I`m in Love" bildete.

I`m in Love

I`m In Love

Introduction in English:
Sometimes there are situations in life to which there are no solutions at all. You may have already done and tried everything. Nothing has helped. 
The "doer" and "controller" in me goes to its knees in such moments. And out comes the part that surrenders completely to hope. Then in a kind of prayer to his inner God and in his inner church at least asks for an alleviation of suffering for all those where all rational or scientific techniques and methods have reached their limits.
This song is about such a kind of "hope prayer"

Introduction in German:
Manchmal gibt es Situationen im Leben, zu denen es keinerlei Problemlösungen gibt. Man hat vielleicht alles schon unternommen und versucht. Nichts hat geholfen. 
Der "Macher" und "Kontrolleur" in mir geht in solchen Momenten in die Knie. Und hervorkommt der Teil, der sich ganz der Hoffnung hingibt. Dann in einer Art Gebet an seinen inneren Gott und in seiner inneren Kirche zumindest um eine Linderung des Leids für all jene bittet, bei denen alle rationalen oder wissenschaftlichen Techniken und Methoden an ihre Grenzen gestoßen. 
Von so einer Art "Hoffnungsgebet" handelt dieses Lied

Lyrics

Prayer of hope

I can only pray for you
For you to my inner God

for you I go to my own church 
sit down in the back pew

hear the organ man playing above me
floods the room with his smooth-painful sound

sometime humbly sit on my knees
go inwardly along your life

and I pray that you survive this all
that you will return to the world
I pray for your deep soul peace

I speak, cry, whisper, sing
For you 
a prayer of hope

I light a candle for you
The glow shows me, you are still there
Walk wistfully through many cloisters 
feel the cross that you have to wear

hear the murmur of the unhappy dead, 
the wailing of the damned from the dark underworld
how can I snatch you away from being cursed
my beloved, wounded, tragic hero

A Prayer of Hope

A Prayer Of Hope

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:
A few years ago, one of my best friends almost died as a result of his alcohol addiction. One autumn day, almost exactly 20 years ago, I wanted to visit him in his small Berlin apartment, because I had not been able to reach him by phone for days and he did not respond to my mails. I was very worried about him. 
Since the door was open, I was able to get into his apartment, which was completely devastated and partly badly damaged. 
As I heard later, he had gone completely crazy after a repeated alcoholic excess. Neighbors had called the police, who then took him to the closed psychiatric ward. 
This low point in his life also meant a decisive turning point for him. Since that day, he has remained sober and has not touched a drop of alcohol. 
During one of our musical jam sessions this year, he asked me to write a song that would help him to better understand this time of self-destruction and to integrate it more into his life story. 
The result is this song "Naked".....  

Lyrics in English

Naked

Almost like broken glass
The curtain grayed and already wet

The door to the entrance bent

Under the brass knuckles completely naked

Your table is painted black with pitch
Your Fender paid with life

On the floor badly injured guitars

Under the scream of rage only naked

The walls you have smeared with the signs of war
In a drug rush you sensed diabolic forces in you

You pulled the plug on yourself 
Betrayed your loving side

Entered the Thanatos carpet
Succumbed to the temptation to kill

Set the lights to night
Have bequeathed yourself as a victim

The world disgust has grabbed you 
Under the hatred unprotected naked

The hinges of your cabinets are shattered
Your sink is rusting silently

From the sofa the wool pushes itself

The light bulb shimmers completely naked

Your umbrella is overstretched
Food scraps stick to the edge of your plate

In your folders like weeds papers
In the entrance the rats already are on lookout

You have put the cloak of darkness all around you
Got excited by the thrill of wanting to destroy

You pulled the plug on yourself 
Betrayed your loving side

Entered the Thanatos carpet
Succumbed to the temptation to kill

Set the lights to night
Have bequeathed yourself as a victim

The world disgust has grabbed you 
Under the hatred unprotected 
naked, naked, naked!


Deutscher Originaltext:

Nackt

Fast wie zerbrochenes Glas
Der Vorhang ergraut und schon nass

Die Türe zum Eingang verbogen

Unter dem Schlagring ganz nackt

Dein Tisch ist mit Pech schwarz bemalt
Deine Fender hat mit dem Leben bezahlt

Am Boden schwer verletzte Gitarren

Unter dem Wutschrei nur nackt

Die Wände hast Du mit den Zeichen des Krieges beschmiert
Im Drogenrausch diabolische Kräfte in Dir aufgespürt

Hast Dir den Stecker gezogen 
Deine liebende Seite betrogen

Den Thanatos-Teppich betreten
Bist der Verführung zu töten erlegen

Stelltest die Lichter auf Nacht
Hast Dich als Opfer vermacht

Der Weltekel hat Dich gepackt 
Unter dem Hass schutzlos nackt

Die Scharniere Deiner Schränke zerborsten
Deine Spüle ist stumm am verrosten

Aus dem Sofa drängt sich die Wolle

Die Glühbirne schimmert ganz nackt

Dein Regenschirm ist überspannt
Essensreste kleben am Tellerrand

In Deinen Ordnern wie Unkraut Papiere
Im Eingang stehen die Ratten schon Schmiere

Hast Dir den Mantel der Dunkelheit ganz umgelegt
Hast Dich am Kick des Zerstören wollens erregt

Hast Dir den Stecker gezogen 
Deine liebende Seite betrogen

DenThanatos-Teppich betreten
Bist der Verführung zu töten erlegen

Stelltest die Lichter auf Nacht
Hast Dich als Opfer vermacht

Der Weltekel hat Dich gepackt 
Unter dem Hass schutzlos 
nackt, nackt, nackt!

Nackt (Naked)

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:

My Jewish mother spent her life trying to suppress her traumatic childhood in the Shanghai ghetto. She survived the Holocaust there under the most inhumane conditions. 
On one day she did not succeed in repressing it. She visited the Jewish Museum with me in Berlin. When she entered the "Room of Exile", her whole body began to tremble. Tears and the pain that had been held back for decades literally burst out of her. She then left this room almost like a flight and could only with difficulty be calmed down again by me and brought back to the present. 
This event and the attempt to put myself in the deeply wounded Jewish soul of my mother, which lay open for a moment in the "room of exile", inspired me to write this song. 

Introduction in German:

Meine jüdische Mutter hat ihr Leben lang immer wieder versucht, ihre traumatische Kindheit im Ghetto von Shanghai zu verdrängen. Sie hat dort den Holocaust unter menschenunwürdigsten Bedingungen überlebt. 
An einem Tag gelang ihr das verdrängen nicht. Sie besuchte mit mir in Berlin das jüdische Museum. Als Sie den "Raum des Exils" betrat, begann ihr ganzer Körper zu zittern. Aus ihr brachen regelrecht die Tränen und der jahrzehntelang immer wieder zurückgehaltene Schmerz heraus. Sie verließ dann geradezu fluchtartig diesen Raum und konnte nur mit Mühe wieder von mir beruhigt und in die Gegenwart zurückgebracht werden. 
Dieses Ereignis und der Versuch, mich in die tief verwundete jüdische Seele meiner Mutter hineinzuversetzen, die für einen Moment im "Raum des Exils" offenlag, hat mich zu diesem Song inspiriert.

From The Middle Of My Jewish Soul

Introduction in English:

Germany in the 1960s was still very much influenced by the Nazi stink. Violence and black pedagogy still prevailed in families. Beatings and spankings were part of the natural educational repertoire of parents. 
Unfortunately, my father and mother also joined this then socially accepted community of thugs.   
In this often ominous and latently threatening time, Doris Day was for me the ideal projection screen for a world full of harmony, clarity and lightness. 
Since my parents basically loved me (they themselves had been traumatized by terrible experiences of violence in Nazi Germany and, due to a lack of suitable trauma therapies at the time, unconsciously went from being victims to perpetrators when beating us children), they took my childhood crushes on Doris Day seriously and at some point gave in to my urging to write her a (fictitious) letter from Germany.... 
As an adult, I distanced myself from my childhood crush on Doris Day for a long time, since critical film analyses tended to portray her as a representative of superficial, shallow and pseudo-harmonic acting and song art. 
Then I saw her again a good ten years ago at the „Berlinale“ in a documentary with Rock Hudson and his HIV infection at the beginning of 1985. Nobody wanted to get Hudson, whose HIV infection was diagnosed in Moscow, out of there and bring him back to the U.S. by plane. Most were afraid of becoming infected themselves. 
Not so Doris Day. She, along with several other actors, organized the flight back. And when Rock Hudson, who was already seriously ill with AIDS, stepped out of the plane after landing in the U.S., she demonstratively stood next to him and put her arm around him. Even today, tears come to my eyes when I think of this unique gesture of solidarity and loyalty. 
Since that magical moment in a Berlin movie theater, Doris Day has become immortal to me. 
And I can only say: I was not at all mistaken in my early love for her....

Lyrics in English

My Blond Angel

When I was a little boy 
Just a meter high 
I fell in love with your blond hair 
That always smelled like cinnamon stars to me

I'd watch TV in the afternoon and then I'd see you 
As you came on the screen
You were pure harmony, clinically pure, high polish
You exuded carefree elegance

No one believed I could fall in love like that
Little boys are supposedly not ready for that yet

But I suffered, I pined, I was sick with love
My blond angel from the faraway land

My parents told me she lives far away from here
In the great wide U.S.A.
Her name is Doris Day and she'd already have
A husband to take care of her

But I wouldn't give up
I cried and cried until my parents realized
They found out her residence and address
And after my continued insistence,

I dictated a love letter to them both
My father translated it for her

He threw it in for me, I was still too little for that
My blond angel from the faraway land

When I sat in front of the screen the following weeks
She looked at me differently
She looked quite in love, my letter seduced her
Since then I was her little husband

For a long time I was ashamed of this love
But recently I saw her
More magical than ever
For me she remains a shining light
I love her

Mein Blonder Engel (My Blond Angel)

Introduction in English:
Over 30 years ago, I did a six-week hitchhiking trip in Ireland. Right at the beginning of the tour I met Ian and we hitchhiked through the beautiful Emerald Isle. 
We quickly discovered that we were both stuck in completely hopeless love affairs. He in London and me in Berlin. Both of us didn't want to admit it for a long time. Now, after countless attempts to save our relationship, we had fled to Ireland. 
I described my rescue efforts as a "Himmelfahrtskommando“. But there is no real equivalent for this German pun in English. The closest thing is "Suicide Mission". And so we came to call our community of fate "Suicide-Himmelfahrt-Mission". 
After this unforgettable tramp journey we always stayed in contact with each other. 
Until earlier this year, Ian's mother informed me that he had died unexpectedly of a heart attack. 
Accordingly, I dedicate this song to my friend Ian, who passed away much too soon. 
In the first part I sing the chorus in German. In the second part I imagine how the almost always cheerful jazz friend Ian would have sung the verses and the chorus. And in the third part, I imagine how the two of us would have sung the chorus together.

Lyrics in English:

From above, look down on me
Have completely overstretched myself

I sadly think oft he last day
I believed that could be done

Saw no age, no boundaries
Even defied the death

Suicide Mission
I can’t stand it
I am breaking down
Totally wounded
Lie to myself
All is lost
This is a Suicide Mission

Life seemed to me wihout meaning
Now finally I had the mission

First I flew along as if in a daze
Completely filled with a great vision

Yes, to heal you
And to redeem you
From the Trauma Suck

I ask myself on e last time
Why didn`t I look there?

Right in front of me the torture stake
And the warners shouted aloud

No demureness
Remote from earth
In wanting to be god burned

Refrain auf Deutsch:

Himmelfahrt
Alles zu hart
Brech‘ in mich ein
Blut wie ein Schwein
Total verschätzt
Tödlich verletzt
Das ist ein Himmelfahrtskommando

Suicide-Himmelfahrt-Mission

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)

Rendezvous mit dem Tod (Rendezvous with Death)

On one of my many tramp tours a French lady named Elain once took me with her. During the trip from Paris to Strasbourg she told me her life story and that she had decided, after more and more agonizing depressions, to put an end to her life. She implored me to accompany her, which I strongly rejected at the time. Rather, I desperately tried to convince her to continue her life. When we said goodbye in Strasbourg, she promised me not to hurt herself. 

A good thirty years later, I do not know what happened to her. In this song, I give free rein to my vision of what it could have been like if I had granted her wish for assisted dying. - A highly controversial theme- . I only give here my passionate pladoyer for accompanied and dignified dying. 

Lyrics in English:

One last farewell kiss

Give you one last farewell kiss
Before I have to kill you now

You want to leave forever
There will be no reunion

You have once again put on your ball gown
Your hair - well groomed
The silver necklace around the neck
Like on a last courtship display 

Your eyes sad-beautiful
Your lips soft-red soft-quiet supplication

You draw me close to you
You take my hand
You lead me almost floating
In your chapel to die 
Chrysanthemum covered

A carafe houses the drink 
The poison dipped in champagne
You lie down on your bedchamber
Longing for the dark after

I'll trickle you in the afterlife juice
Your breath stops being here
Your heartbeat's gonna stop

Before your soul blows away
You give me one last farewell kiss

Don't suffer, my love, I'm well.
Don't lament, my love, I'm liberated.
Live on for you and for me
In deep gratitude
Your Elain

Deutsch-Französicher Originaltext:

Noch einen letzten Abschiedskuß

Geb` Dir noch einen letzten Abschiedskuß
Bevor ich Dich jetzt töten muß

Du willst für immer gehen
Es gibt kein wiedersehen

Hast Dir noch einmal Dein Ballkleid angelegt
Dein Haar – glanzvoll gepflegt
Die Silberkette um den Hals
Wie auf einer letzten Balz 

Deine Augen traurig-schön
Deine Lippen zartrotes sanft-leises Flehen

Ziehst mich zu Dir nah heran
Nimmst meine Hand
Führst mich fast schwebend
In Deine Kapelle zum Sterben 
Mit Chrysanthemen belegt

Eine Karaffe beherbergt den Trunk 
Das Gift in Champagner getunkt
Du legst Dich auf Dein Schlafgemach
Sehnst Dich nach dem dunklen Danach

Ich träufel` Dir den Jenseits-Saft ein
Dein Atem hört auf, hier zu sein
Dein Herzschlag bleibt irgendwann stehn`

Bevor Deine Seele verweht
Schenkst Du mir noch einen letzten Abschiedskuß

Ne souffre pas, mon amour, je vais bien
Ne te plains pas, mon amour, je suis libéré
Vivez pour toi et pour moi
En profonde gratitude
Ton Elain

Noch einen letzten Abschiedskuß (One Last Farewll Kiss)

Noch Einen Letzten Abschiedskuss (One Last Farewell Kiss) (Engl. Lyrics in the Intro)

Some people carry around a secret, a carefully buried basic feeling or a wish that is locked away deep in the abyss of their soul. Often it is only when death is already in the doorway that they can bring up and communicate what has been hidden for so long.  
This is also what happened in this true story, in which a man can only tell his wife how he really feels about her just before he dies of cancer. 

Lyrics in English:

The Last Words

I'm lying here in hospice
Eaten up by cancer

I'm at stage four
I'm about to be killed 
Can't see anything more

My body fully tattooed
Now as skeletonized
My fitness-treated muscles

Mercilessly pureed 
I've never felt so strong
Yeah, I must be losing myself as a hero   

You sit at the edge of the bed
Swimming in a sea of tears
Yes this softness is incredibly difficult for me

You cried for me
Rhymed the most beautiful funeral poems for me
Lived for me the pain
With noble dignity

I'm stuck in a tank dress
Even in the deepest suffering
Can't I tell you how I feel

Fuck!
I'm a John Wayne idiot

I'm as good as dead
And it wants out
I push, cramp, swallow:
I love you

Don't look at me like that
I really mean it

There is no more repetition
I just die now
Please let me go

Somewhere in the next life
Let's meet for a beer
I promise you that
But please stay for a very long time- 

There!
Get the fuck out of here
I'm already dead in my grave

Cancer has won
Got me down

OKAY
No more fighting

I'm leaving now ahead of schedule
Cancer has freed me
Come black brother, take me with you
Wherever to go

Deutscher Originaltext:

Die letzten Worte

Lieg` hier im Hospiz
Vom Krebs zerfressen

Bin im Stadium 4
Gleich ist`s um mich geschehen 
Kann nichts mehr sehen

Mein Körper voll tätowiert
Nun wie skelettiert
Meine Fitness-gestählten Muckies

Gnadenlos püriert
Hab`mich noch nie so stark gespürt
Ja muß mich wohl als Held verlier`n

Du sitzt am Bettrand
Schwimmst im Tränenmeer
Ja dieses Weiche fällt mir unglaublich schwer

Hast für mich geweint
Die schönsten Trauergedichte gereimt
Lebtest für mich den Schmerz
Mit edler Würde

Steck´ im Panzerkleid
Selbst im tiefsten Leid
Kann ich Dir nicht sagen, was ich fühle

Fuck!
Bin ein John-Wayne-Idiot!

Bin so gut wie tot
Und es will heraus

Ich presse, krampfe, schlucke:
Ich liebe Dich

Schau`mich nicht so an
Ja das mein` ich wirklich

Ein nochmal gibts nicht mehr
Ich sterb` jetzt einfach
Lass` mich bitte gehen

Irgendwo im nächsten Leben
Treffen wir uns mal auf`n Bier

Das versprech` ich Dir
Doch bitte bleib` jetzt noch ganz lange – 

Hier!
Hau jetzt endlich ab
Lieg` schon tot im Grab

Der Krebs hat gesiegt
Hat mich untergekriegt

O.K.
Kein Kämpfen mehr

Geh` jetzt vor der Zeit
Der Krebs hat mich befreit

Komm nimm mich schwarzer Bruder
Egal wohin

Die Letzten Worte (The Last Words)

Die Letzten Worte (The Last Words) (Engl. Lyrics In The 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

In many comments I am often compared with great male musicians. There are references to the Beatles, to Pink Floyd, sometimes also to Bob Dylan or Rio Reiser. 
However, three outstanding female artists have influenced me in my musical work: 
Carole King's unique compositions on her century album "Tapestry" have inspired me to create my first own melodies;
Patti Smith's overwhelming poetic language gave me the impetus to create my own lyrics;
And finally, Joni Mitchell's highly original guitar playing encouraged me to develop my own way of playing guitar.
With "My Musical Mother" I create my own personal (musical) monument to these three brilliant women.    

My Musical Mother

I wander within me back to an earlier time
About 12 years old, not yet ready to live
Often lost and alone, frozen inside myself

Often lay awake at night, afraid of life
Life seemed like a boomerang
Who's gonna hit me with three 
Penalties every time I made a wish roll

When I was that lonely, she came to me
Sat down at the piano just for me
Played beautifully: "You've got a friend"

Stroke me gently over my hair
Was just there for me
Held me out with my whole soul robe

Ooh Carole King
You and Tapestry
That struck me full, these splendid melodies

You taught me to 
Listen carefully

You’re definetly my Musical Mother for me

You put melodies in my head
But I still couldn't think of words
My language: Shallow and gray 
The first lyrics: Kitschy and tepid

Then I was 15, hanging out with my stoner boyfriend
On the turntable "Horses" spinning around
And I thought, "Damn, she's pronouncing it" 

I read her poems, she whispered to me 
The pictures in my ears, she opened the door for me 
To the poetry

To words that caress, to phrases that cry 
To rhymes in which the world shakes for a moment
And everything Dead rises again

Ooh Patti Smith
Through you my soul finally spoke to me
I developed a sense for word and a feeling for language
My first lyrics on the wall
As written by a magic hand

You’re definitely my Musical Mother for me

Now I had the sounds and the lyrics
But one instrument was missing until the end
I often lay on my bed
Just hum along in my mind

Until one day, my fat neighbor friend 
Put a guitar around my neck
And showed me how the easiest chords go

A year later he put in a movie of you
You sang to your guitar all by yourself
You had a very unique way 
Of plucking and picking up chords

I didn't know about your early handicap
And took your play with me into my warm bed
Yes I was playfully seduced by you

Ooh Joni Mitchell
You taught me 
That I do not slavishly listen to brave guitar teachers
That I can be inventive
My very own guitar sound

You`re definitely my Musical Mother for me

Oh Carole
Oh Patti
Oh Joni

You are
Yes you are
My Musical Mothers for me

My Musical Mother

It is a good 20 years ago that the diagnosis "testicular cancer" broke into my life like a thunderbolt. For a long time I have been cured of it. Nevertheless the mental and physical scars remain; and the shock, that lingers in my body memory forever over the horrified cry of the young, compassionate doctor when she discovered the tumor in the ultrasound. Time heals many wounds but by no means all. But the time of 20 years gives me enough distance to find words and sounds for what happened in and with me in the first three days after the cancer diagnosis.  

Lyrics in English:

Could that have been it?

Just came from the ultrasound
Inside of me a dull thud 
Everything different

Wanted to have children 
Must now bow to fate:
Testicular cancer

Standing` totally beside me
I am like death, no feeling

Could that have been it?
I've only lived half a life
Wanted to give so much more

Why me? What sense?
Is there a reason?
That I am afflicted with cancer

Who threw this curse on me?

Just want to be alone
Dig myself in in the dark
Only want to sleep

A part of me screams: "Free!"
The agony of life is over 
I may die now

I'm so confused
I don't know what's going to happen to me

Could that have been it?
I've only lived half a life
Wanted to give so much more

Why me? What sense?
Is there a reason?
That I am afflicted with cancer

Who threw this curse on me?


Deutscher Originaltext:

Kanns´denn das schon gewesen sein?

Komm` grad` vom Ultraschall,
In mir ein dumpfer Knall 
Alles anders

Wollt` doch  noch Kinder zeugen 
Muß mich jetzt dem Schicksal beugen:
Hodenkrebs

Steh` total neben mir
Bin wie tod, kein Gespür

Kanns` denn das schon gewesen sein
Hab` nur halb gelebt
Wollt` noch soviel geben

Warum ich? Welcher Sinn?
Gibt´s nen Grund?
Das ich vom Krebs befallen bin

Wer warf mir diesen Fluch nur hin?

Will nur alleine sein,
Grab` mich im Dunkeln ein
Will nur schlafen

Ein Teil in mir schreit: „Frei!“
Die Lebensqual vorbei 
Ich darf jetzt sterben

Ich bin so verwirrt
Weiß nicht was aus mir wird

Kanns` denn das schon gewesen sein
Hab` nur halb gelebt
Wollt` noch soviel geben

Warum ich? Welcher Sinn?
Gibt´s nen Grund?
Das ich vom Krebs befallen bin

Wer warf mir diesen Fluch nur hin?

Kann`s denn das schon gewesen sein?

Kann`s Denn Das Schon Gewesen Sein? (Could That Have Been It?)

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

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

Dying

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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