Ein sehr ambivalentes Gefühl. Einerseits großartig, da von einem wunderbaren Menschen geschenkt bekommen, andererseits furchtbar, da mit einer verlogenen Zeit verbunden. Könnte ich, wäre ich, hätte ich...alles würde anders sein heute.

The fall of the world's own optimist

There's no charity in you
And that surprises me
I guess I thought you were
A golden idol
'Cause I called you majesty
On the balustrade
You watched me hunt for tips
I was obliged to pick up
From the passing trade

Hey, kids-look at this
It's the fall of the world's own optimist
I could get back up if you insist
But you'll have to ask politely
'Cause the eggshells I've been treading
Couldn't spare me a beheading
And I'll know I had it coming
From a Caesar who was only slumming
Hey, kids-look at this
It's the fall of the world's own optimist ...