Schwarz zu Blau

Een vet nummer over Berlijn. En vette clip. Oh, en ik leef!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yphwzD1XaBY&feature=browch

Om een of andere reden is emded disabled, dus moeten jullie het doen met een link.

Tekst is ook goed, maar ik kan geen Duits. Dusss:

I come ouf ot the club, it was nice. Smell like drinking, I am exhausted, it's a beautiful life. Walk over drunken bodies rotting on my way. I see rats eating until they are replete. In the shadow of the kebap shop. I walk through puke at the Kottbusser Tor, junks are befuddled. Guys spitting around, not behaving well. Snotty upstarts on a desperate search for the scene. Pierced girls who want me to read "Straßenfeger".
Half past five, my eyes are burning. Step on guy who's sleeping between dead pigeons. Hystericals girls nag and are in panic, because around the corner there's tension between Tarek and Sam. Tarek says: "Shut up or I'll hit you in your face" Sam is frightened, but he can't just say nothing. The red soup runs over the asphalt. I'm feeling sick, I clasp my coat because it's cold
Good morning Berlin, you can be so ugly, so dirty and gray. You can so wonderfully terrible. You're night are devouring me. It might just be the best for me if I go home and sleep. And while I'm walking through the streets black slowly turns into blue.
Tired figures in the neon light. Deep wrinkles in the face. The early shift stays silten, everone remains to himself. Frustration comes up, the bus is not comming. And everywhere there's sh*t, one would actually have to hover over it. Everybody has a dog but nobody to talk to. I breathe through my mouth all the time, that's part of my life. I feel unhealthy, need something pure against it.
I have a headache, I need to get medicine. I'd like to have some Bagdad pastries now. It's warm there, I try to loose myself in my dreams with Fatima, the sweet pastries saleswoman. R&B ballads come out of a parking Benz. End of the work day for the street gangs. A hooligan is lying in a woman's arms and he's crying. Well, this city isn't as hard as you think it is.
I'm tired, rub your dust out of my eyes. You're not beautiful and you know it. Your panorama's filthy. You don't even look beautiful from afar. But the sun is just rising and I know, if I want to or not, that I need you to breathe.