Little Dead Bertha April In Paris
I go on the street
And all is everyday
Grey walls and dusty trees
And rubbish on my way
I see the people's races
And all repeat again
I see them foolish faces
And heads without brain.
We a live in world of madness…
We a live in world of sadness…
I know my disease
And I want kill my sense
Hard life without drinks
But exit - in my hands
I buy the many beers
And drink this after wine
My brain-work to appease
In the madness - our sign.
