Off Screen - Christina Rosenvinge

And now the noise

has stopped at once,

he pays the check,

she waits outside.

They walk across the bridge,

they share a cigarrette.

Nothing is changed

but the circus is gone,

circus is gone,

circus is gone.

Tigers cannot wait forever,

circus is gone, stupid me,

thought I´ve come to know you better,

off there goes my raincoat,

words we cannot say

at the end of november,

such is the way.

Hotel at night,

they take a bath,

coming from the hallway

this noise again

like liquid steel.

-The scar-, he says,

-is fading so fast,

you´re made of sand,

like dunes you grow at night-.

Down the street

we hear the Kudamm bells

Kudamm bells,

Kudamm bells.

Hope I´ll die in a foreign land

with foreign friends,

foreign friends.

A bunch of daises

in my hands

lost among the soldiers,

follow the parade,

every song gets forgotten,

such is the way.

Hair, skin, a glass of gin,

thighs, neck, some kind of wreck,

zipper, stitches,

a floor that screeches,

close up of her pupil,

now, a different room,

different room,

different room,

different voice.

Real birds outside the window,

different moon, piping noise,

not so bad as East Berlin goes,

hands are on the table,

wounds get washed away,

and as long as we want it

such is the way.