Текст и перевод песни Bap - Amok

Amok

Er hätt Häng wie ne Bagger,
Ess ne Kääl wie ne Baum,
Er hätt ziemlich schlääsch jeschloofe,
Jede Naach däselve Draum.
Er broht dä Wecker nit zo stelle, keine Termin,
Die Stechuhr, die verhaßte, waat nit op ihn.
Sing Arbeit mäht jetz ne Computer, irjend′ne Chip,
Hätt et kumme jesinn, doch leider nötz ihm dat nix.
Er gläuv janix mieh, alles Lüje
Un em Radio singk irjendeiner vun Liebe un Triebe.
Halver Sechs un er setz ahm Köschendesch
Un er fröht sich: " Wiesu ich?
All die Johre, - woor dat nix? "
Un sing Phantasie läuf
Amok, wie'ne ahnjestochne Stier,
Läuf Amok, Amok, hilflos wie′e Dier.
Er läuv Amok, och wenn et rein janix bringk,
Amok, wie en nem billije Fernsehfilm.
Dat he ess sing dritte Tass Kaffee
Un sing vierte Zigarett.
Er mäht et Fröstöcksfernsehn ahn,
Leis, weil sing Frau litt noch em Bett.
Er jitt sich Möh zo kapiere, wat dä Kanzler erklärt,
Et fällt schwer, et konzentriere, woor widder spät.
Aach Fläsche Bier un dä letzte Müll och noch jeluhrt,
Bloß nit bei ihr och noch versaare, kann et nit aff, wenn sie'n beduhrt.
" Einfach wegrationalisiere.
Wie soll ei Minsch do nit zom Zyniker weede, resigniere? "
Keine Zweck, föhlt sich wie dä letzte Dreck,
Immer widder: " Wiesu ich?
All die Johre, woor dat nix?"
Un sing Phantasie läuf
Amok, wie'ne ahnjestochne Stier,
Läuf Amok, Amok, hilflos wie′e Dier.
Er läuv Amok, och wenn et rein janix bringk,
Amok, wie en ′nem billije Fernsehfilm.

Amok

His shoulders hang low like an excavator,
His head is as heavy as a tree,
He's been sleeping terribly,
The same dream every night.
He doesn't bother to set his alarm, no appointments,
The dreaded time clock doesn't wait for him.
A computer now does his job, some kind of chip,
He would have witnessed its arrival, but sadly, it's no use to him.
He doesn't believe anything anymore, it's all lies
And on the radio, someone sings about love and passion.
Half past five, and he's sitting at the kitchen table.
And he wonders, "Why me?"
All those years—was it nothing?"
And his imagination runs
Wild, like a gored bull,
Running wild, wild, helpless as an animal.
He's running wild, though it won't do any good,
Wild, like in a cheap TV movie.
This is his third cup of coffee
And his fourth cigarette.
He turns on the morning news,
Softly, because his wife is still asleep in bed.
He tries to understand what the Chancellor is saying,
It's hard to concentrate; it was late again last night.
Even bottles of beer and the last bit of trash have been cleared away,
Just don't let it affect her still; he can't stand it when she needs him.
"Just rationalize it away.
How can a person not become a cynic, not give up, when faced with this?"
He has no purpose, feels like the lowest of the low,
Always again: "Why me?"
All those years—was it nothing?"
And his imagination runs
Wild, like a gored bull,
Running wild, wild, helpless as an animal.
He's running wild, though it won't do any good,
Wild, like in ′a cheap TV movie.