Berlin - John Watts

These sore red eyes explore the room again

The signed pictures of film stars who stayed here in eras that knew of no wall

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Part of the old world lives on this island in Germany

And still out there through the window at six in the morning

The essence survives

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Come they told me, down to the dark clubs at night

They’ll surprise you, the one’s who are asleep when it’s light

So outrangeous, like tropical birds in a cage

Out from underneath their stones

Berlin… Berlin…Berlin…Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Young faces new ideals, in search of paradise

They merge into the history, the theatre of memories

That make up the feel of

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…

Berlin… Berlin…