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Diese Zeichnung stammt von Jochen Biemann und wurde, auf der Rückseite der Fotokollage von Bernhard Liesegang (oben seitenverkehrt dargestellt), im Durchpausverfahren geschaffen.

Blast Up Car


The highway's tar flies away
Under the humming car
And the lights watch us.

There's something wrong
With the motor
But go, drive on!

(Wolfgang Grahn, 1969)



Missi Solis


It was morning, the dew was lying on the grass.
Two young men were suspended in a cask.
But the dew was northern dew with blots.

And the day began like every day:
Tudors starved their wives.
And the day was a day like every day:
No one boiled but me.

My eyes had vanished from my hands - where are they now?
A strange dust fell from my face - where is it now?

And the evening began like every evening:
My squirrels flew like they'd done before.
Their foggy herdsman made them die.
I circulated while I knew:
Tomorrow it's me who's gonna die.

(Jochen Biemann, 1970)



Morning


It is morning, the dew is lying on the grass
Two young men, their minds are in a mess.
Out for a duel, that's why they've come here
to this meadow, one will die, one disappear.

I've been going down to London courtyard
Spoke to the judge, his eyes looked so hard
My best friend, they've hung him up so cruel
In the morning, while I watched the morning duel.

I met a girl and thought I knew what was up
And she said "Come along with me, I got time enough".
And I came along to where she wanted to go
But when I thought we'd make it she said "Oh no!"

Today early in the morning it was foggy
And an old woman was talking to her doggy
And it was still dark, a soft rain squeezed my hair
Grey houses and tired people were looking so fair.
I was trying to catch a train which I could not see
Black cars and churches, they made me feel free
But then, in the train, my feelings were flown
And then when I got out, my dreams and illusions were blown.

And tonight, there'll be snow, and tought there'll be rain
What in the morning was great, now it's in vain.
And who is up today will be down tomorrow
And the circle of life is a hole filled with sorrow.

(Wolfgang Grahn, 1968)



Sawmill


I saw you at the sawmill
and you were milling there.
But you were milling quite in vain.

We dressed up your pony
and I asked: "Warum läuft denn da Blut aus meinem Kopf?"
Your answer told me you needed it.

Nowhere was a bus stop
but I got a whole lotta love.
So I went to steel horses.

Ah, cooking all the lonely people:
Their shoes are made of gum.
Why do they lose their lungs?

(Jochen Biemann, 1970)

Special (I gave my Love a Cherry)


I gave my love a cherry, that had no stone
I gave my love a chicken, that had no bone
I gave my love a ring, that had no end
I gave my love a baby, with no cry -in'

How can there be a cherry, that has no stone
How can there be a chicken, that has no bone
How can there be a ring, that has no end
How can there be a baby, with no cryin'

A cherry when it's bloomin', it has no stone
A chicken when it's hatchin', it has no bone
A ring when it's rollin', it has no end
A baby when it's sleepin, there's no cryin'

(Traditional / Folk Song)



Sterilisation Road


The luscious nable of a girl
And her half-naked bosoms
Tell me that she had to go home.

Themistokles
And the tiny animal are dead.
And my heating is on strike.

(Wolfgang Grahn,1969)



Unsre Tochter


Unsre Tochter ist jetzt mit der Schule fertig.
Was sie machen soll, das wissen wir noch nicht.
Auf alle Fälle wird sie später heiraten,
einen ganz feinen Mann,
dem sie dann zwei, drei Kinder schenken kann.

Die Ausbildung soll nicht zu teuer sein,
das Geld dafür, das kommt ja doch nicht rein.
Unser Sohn, der macht uns noch mehr Sorgen.
Er ist so doof und soll doch unsren Namen weitertragen.


Und ihre Lehrer wissen alles besser,
durch die Schule ist sie ganz und gar verdorben.
Seh ich ihre Freunde, könnt mir übel werden.
Hätt ich das geahnt, wär sie schon lange von der Schule runter.

Früher war sie so ein braves Kind:
"Wie ein Engel", sagten alle Leute.
In allem dachte sie genau wie wir,
mied alles Schlechte, und war sehr vernünftig.


Es war alles fertig, vorbereitet für sie.
Wie lange hatten wir dafür gespart,
daß sie endlich eine noble Mitgift hat,
wie sich das gehört
für Leute, die was auf sich halten wollen.

Die Aussteuer ganz umsonst gekauft.
Das Geld dafür darf nicht verloren sein.
Von der Oma helles Tafelsilber.
Was sollen bloß die Leute von uns denken?

(Bernhard Liesegang)

[Erfassung des Textes von der Tonaufzeichnung: JB+RM]