[Verse 1] The rails swallow miles, swallow time, a metronome of steel – until the brakes scream. A rail tears open time, tears open haste, we stand in the scar tissue of timetables, in the scar tissue. [Verse 2] Midnight devours the connecting train, devours hope, the bus wheezes through curves, wheezes through sleeping villages. Headlights lick asphalt wounds, lick loneliness, somewhere a bottle clinks, a bottle of loneliness clinks. [Verse 3] Final stop: tram skin made of metal, of tired metal. I climb into the belly of this caterpillar, this glassy caterpillar, it writhes out of the city, writhes in spasms, lights melt into jellyfish, melt into sluggish jellyfish. [Verse 4] Sleep overtakes me like merchandise, overtakes me black, costs nothing, works instantly, works without mercy. When I wake, the air tastes of concrete, of foreign concrete, the stop bears no sign, no sign – only graffiti, only prayers. [Verse 5] The train crawls backward, crawls through its skeleton, I count cracks in posters, cracks: “Dare to be new!” My watch only shows circling, shows the circling of tiredness, a paper cup rolls over linoleum, rolls over the linoleum moon. [Verse 6] Suddenly I recognize walls, recognize the familiar hall, I am back at the starting point, at the point of silence. Do I keep sleeping, do I fall asleep in the hall, in the metal hall? Will they find me tomorrow, find me as a silent passenger? [Outro] The wheels don’t ask – they turn, turn, I become a pendulum, a pendulum between two nights.
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