Текст и перевод песни BAP - Eddie's Radio-Show

Eddie's Radio-Show

Et woor en stinknormale Naach, noch woor nix jrooß passiert. Er hatt et Radio ahnjemaht un dann nit hinjehührt: "En dämm Dinge läuf dä janze Daach däselve Müll. Su joot wie nie kütt ir'ndjet wat mer wirklich hühre will!" Op eimohl daach'e: "Wat ess dat, dä kenn ich doch woher!?" Ne Spot für'n Marjerien, et Konzentriere feel ihm schwer. Eins woor secher: Die Stemm woor positiv besetz. Op eimohl hatte't: Da's dä D.
J., der'e johrelang vermess hätt: "Radio Show, here is Eddie's Radio-Show" Wie lang ess dat her un vüür allem wieso? En singem Kopp leefe zehnmillione Minifilme aff. Dank dämm Eddie hatte't domols durch su manche Naach jeschaff, hatt sich selvs durch ihn kapiert, dä wohr dat Schlösselloch zur Welt, hatt ihm immer zojehührt, bess datte ir'ndwann saare däät: "Radio Show, this was Eddies Radio-Show" Wie lang ess dat her un vüür allem wieso? Er sooß do, wie en Trance, et Radio hatte ussjedrieht un sing Jedanke noh dä janze Bands un Sänger durchsieb, die'e zum eezte Mohl beim Eddie bemerk. Dä Klos em Hals, dä jing nit weg, dä hätt sich eher noch verstärk. Wieso löhß du dir dat jefalle, wieso mähßte sujet met, all dä Schrott, dä sich Format nennt, wieso wehrste dich bloß nit jäje Umweltsünde, die jetarnt sinn als Musik, Seife-Oper-Fuzzies un Container-Freaks?

Eddie's Radio-Show

It was a stinknormal night, nothing major had happened yet. He had turned on the radio and then ignored it: "The same crap runs on that thing all day. As good as never there's anything that I really want to hear!" Suddenly he thought: "What's that, I know that from somewhere!" An ad for margarine, it was hard for him to concentrate. One thing was certain: The voice had positive vibes. Suddenly it hit him: That's D.
J., who'd been annoying him for years: "Radio Show, here is Eddie's Radio-Show" How long ago was that and most importantly why? A ten million mini-movie was running in his head. Thanks to this Eddie, he had made it through many a night back then, he had even understood himself through him, he was the keyhole to the world, and he had always listened to him, until at some point he would say: "Radio Show, this was Eddie's Radio-Show" How long ago was that and most importantly why? He sat there as if in a trance, he had turned off the radio and sifted through his thoughts of all the bands and singers who he'd noticed for the first time with Eddie. The lump in his throat would not go away, it would more likely get worse. Why do you put up with it, why do you have to participate in all this crap that's called format, why don't you defend yourself against environmental sins that are camouflaged as music, soap opera fuzzies and container freaks?