[Verse 1: Motorik krautrock male lead, German-accented, steady delivery over the motorik beat] I stand at the gate on Bornholmer Street Gray coat and gray cap and gray boots on my feet Twelve years at the window, a stamp in my hand I say no to the people, and they understand No to the grandmother, no to the son No to the girl with a photo of someone No to the letter, and no to the plea Every no is a brick, and the bricks pay me Then the radio says it at seven o'clock "From now on," says the man, and the words are a shock And the crowd at the bridge is a hundred or two By nine it's a thousand, and nobody knew [Hook: motorik krautrock male lead] Hand me the paper and look at my face Twelve years I have stood in this one gray place Stamp on the picture and pass through the gate Checkpoint, checkpoint, it's late, it's late [Verse 2: motorik krautrock male lead, the droning guitar getting louder] No orders come down from the office upstairs The phone on the wall only rings, and nobody cares I call to the captain, the captain says wait And ten thousand people are calling the gate The boys in the tower have rifles and fear And one of them asks me, "Do we shoot them from here?" And I look at the faces, the coats and the prams The nurse from the clinic with cold in her hands The baker from Pankow with flour on his thumb The boy with the guitar, the man with the drum They are not an army, they are only a street And the street has been waiting, and stamping its feet [Hook: motorik krautrock male lead] Hand me the paper and look at my face Twelve years I have stood in this one gray place Stamp on the picture and pass through the gate Checkpoint, checkpoint, it's late, it's late [Verse 3: motorik krautrock male lead, half past eleven] Half past eleven, I walk to the bar I lift it myself, and I see them, how far They go from the bridge to the end of the light And they look at my hand, and my hand is all right [Forbidden Word: motorik krautrock male lead, saying the one word his post forbade, the beat never stopping] And I say it, the word that I never could say The word I was paid not to say every day Go, go, and they're running, and they're walking, and they cry And I stamp every photo, and nobody asks why [Outro Verse: motorik krautrock male lead, the motorik beat carrying everyone across] Twenty thousand by midnight, the bridge is a river And I stamp till my hand and the stamp start to quiver At one in the morning, the bridge is all clear And the last one on this side of the bridge is here So I take off the gray cap, I put down the stamp And I walk through the gate past my own little lamp And nobody asks me for paper or name I am one more face, and the faces are the same [Hook: motorik krautrock male lead] Hand me the paper and look at my face Twelve years I have stood in this one gray place Stamp on the picture and pass through the gate Checkpoint, checkpoint, it's late, it's late [End]
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