Текст и перевод песни Brings - Grell un laut

Grell un laut

Vom Weste en die Stadt erin, wo die Kneipen voll mit Studies sin,
He beste met veezich ne ahle Mann,
Hinger'm Bahnhof-Süd fängk die Erinnerung an.
Comix, Luxor un Blue Shell, Näächte zwesche Himmel un Höll,
Nix op d'r Täsch, ävver en dicke Lippe.
"Ey, häste ens en Mark un am besten ne Kippe?"

Die Stadt, su grell un su laut,
Die Stadt, su herrlich versaut!
Die Stadt, du grell un su laut,
Die Stadt, su dreckich vertraut!

Alles es wie et immer wor, nor et Peppermint es nit mih do.
Do wo die Plaat jesesse hät,
Schwimmp en Fröhlingsroll em heiße Fett.
D'r Ring met singem Neonleech,
Dem jonn mer immer noch us'em Wääch,
Türsteher, Bulle, dat es nit uns Welt,
Die Venloer Stroß erus noh'm Ihrefeld.

Die Moschee us Beton un Jlas, unser Revier direk vür d'r Nas.
He rüsch et anders, he süht et anders us,
Mer believe op Kurs, immer jradus.
D'r Jödel es die magische Jrenz,
Hinger'm Bahndamm woren mer Pänz,
Edelweisspirate, nix es verjesse,
Die Stadt kapott un nix mih ze fresse.

Mer kumme immer, immer, immer – widder zoröck,
Denn mer sin immer, immer, immer – noch veröck...!

Vom Weste en die Stadt erin, wo die Kneipen voll mit Studies sin,
He beste met veezich ne ahle Mann,
Hinger'm Bahnhof-Süd fängk die Erinnerung an.

Mer kumme immer, immer, immer – widder zoröck,
Denn mer sin immer, immer, immer – noch veröck...!

Bright and loud

From the west into the city center, where the pubs are full of students,
Here best with forty, an old man,
Behind the railway station south, the memory begins.
Comix, Luxor and Blue Shell, nights between heaven and hell,
Nothing in our pockets, but a thick lip.
"Hey, do you have a Mark and preferably a cigarette?"

The city, so bright and so loud,
The city, so wonderfully debauched!
The city, you bright and so loud,
The city, so dirty and familiar!

Everything is as it always was, only the Peppermint is no longer there.
Where the plate was sitting,
A spring roll is floating in the hot fat.
The ring with its neon light,
We still avoid it,
Doormen, cops, that's not our world,
The Venloer Straße out to the Ihrefeld.

The mosque of concrete and glass, our territory right in front of our noses.
Here it smells different, here it looks different,
We believe on course, always straight ahead.
The Jödel is the magic border,
Behind the railway embankment we were kids,
Edelweiss pirates, nothing is forgotten,
The city broken and nothing more to eat.

We always come, always, always - back again,
Because we're always, always, always - still fucked up...!

From the west into the city center, where the pubs are full of students,
Here best with forty, an old man,
Behind the railway station south, the memory begins.

We always come, always, always - back again,
Because we're always, always, always - still fucked up...!