[Verse 1] Beneath the lamps on Friedrichstrasse, Where the midnight trains run late, There's a club with velvet curtains And a man who guards the gate. The orchestra plays crooked, The champagne glasses shine, While gentlemen in tailored suits Exchange the city's lines. [Chorus] Welcome to the house of painted smiles, Where everybody's innocent for a while, Where the truth wears rouge and the money wears a crown, And the orchestra keeps playing While the whole world's burning down. Oh, dance, dance, dance beneath the chandelier— There's nothing left to lose but fear. [Verse 2] The singer wears a silver dress, Her voice is smoke and rain, She sings about tomorrow While the bankers count the gain. A policeman drinks beside a thief, A judge is laughing too, And somewhere in the kitchen A tired girl knows what's true. [Spoken — quietly] “Ladies and gentlemen… Tonight's performance is dedicated to everyone who still believes the show must go on.” [Verse 3] At table seven sits a minister, At table nine a spy, They whisper over black coffee As the headlines hurry by. The club owner knows their secrets, He keeps them in a drawer— Every bribe has got a number, Every favour has a door. [Chorus] Welcome to the house of painted smiles, Where everybody's innocent for a while, Where the truth wears rouge and the money wears a crown, And the orchestra keeps playing While the whole world's burning down. Oh, dance, dance, dance beneath the chandelier— Laugh loudly so nobody hears the fear. [Bridge] Outside, the posters multiply, The city changes overnight, Old friends stop returning calls, And shadows swallow light. Inside, the drummer counts to four, The dancers turn in rows— But nobody asks the obvious question: “Where does the music go when nobody knows?” [Final Verse] The curtain falls at half-past three, The band packs up its case, The singer wipes the glitter From a frightened, painted face. The owner locks the cellar door, The street begins to freeze— And Berlin keeps walking forward On its borrowed guarantees. [Final Chorus — slower] Welcome to the house of painted smiles, Where corruption dresses up in style, Where the truth stands trembling In the wings behind the stage, And every song gets darker With every turning page. [Outro — spoken] “Ladies and gentlemen… Thank you for coming. Please leave quietly. The city is listening.”
