Текст и перевод песни BAP - Ewije Affhängerei

Ewije Affhängerei

Dä Stau vüür Trier woor nit enjeplant, klar, wer denk dann schon em Oktober ahn Schnie!? Dä letzte Day Off ess bahl nimieh wohr, die Bänd ess fäädisch wie nie. Lauwärme Pizza ess och nit die Welt, dä Soundcheck woor Quälerei. Dä Sänger′s heiser un dä Trommler verkällt un bess zur Show sinn et noch mindestens zwei Stunde nur Affhängerei, wie jeden Daach: Affhängerei, ewije Affhängerei, ich saach dir! Die Jarderob rüsch noh Schweiß un noh Bier, noh kahlem Rauch un ess ziemlich versyph. Zehndausend Bands hann de Wäng he verziert, Sprüch, die mer'p Tour nur bejrief. Noch en Tass Kaffee un en Koppingtablett, "Hätt einer′n Zeidung dobei?" Dä Pianist frööch dä Bassmann: "Wie spät?" "Veedel noh sibbe", säht dä "Jetz nur noch dreiveedelstund Affhängerei, wie jeden Daach: Affhängerei, ewije Affhängerei, oh Mann!" Dä Jittarist klimpert ir'ndjet en Moll, ir'ndwo blöhß einer ′e Saxophon enn. Dä Sänger fluch un frööch sich wat ′e he soll, ihm fählt noch immer sing Stemm, vermess sing Frau denk ahn singe Klein, die Tour's su joot wie vorbei. Nur noch en Woch dann ess′e doheim. Bloß, dann fählt ihm, dat ess jo dä Scheiß, die Bänd un die Affhängerei, die ätzende Affhängerei, die ewije Affhängerei, langwiehlije Affhängerei, die nervende Affhängerei

Eternal Hanging Around

The traffic jam before Trier wasn't expected, of course, who thinks about snow in October!? The last day off was almost over, the band is ready as never before. Lukewarm pizza isn't that great either, the sound check was agony. The singer's hoarse and the drummer's pale and it's still at least two hours until the show just hanging around, like every day: Hanging around, eternal hanging around, I tell you! The dressing room still reeks of sweat and beer, of stale smoke and is pretty filthy. Ten thousand bands have decorated the walls here, sayings that we only understand on tour. Another cup of coffee and a tabloid, "Does anyone have a newspaper here?" The pianist asked the bass player: "What time is it?" "Quarter to seven", he says "Now only three quarters of an hour hanging around, like every day: Hanging around, eternal hanging around, oh man!" The guitarist strums something in minor, somewhere someone's blowing a saxophone. The singer curses and wonders what to do, he still hasn't got his voice, misses his wife I guess and thinks of his little one, the tour's almost over. Just one more week and he'll be home. Only then he'll miss, that's the shit, the band and the hanging around, the damn hanging around, the eternal hanging around, the tedious hanging around, the annoying hanging around