Those Were the Days - Alphaville

There is a landscape in my head

I sometimes travel

But this is strictly after dark

Beyond the barricades and trenches

There stands the factory

Hand me the costum of the sad acrobat

And he says:

Son, this is the bread i break for you

But do not touch it

And he says:

Son, this is the wine i pour for you

But do not drink it

Dein aschenes haar, sulamith

And he says:

Son, this is the bread i break for you

Son, this is the wine i pour for you

But do not drink it, don’t drink at all.

There is a stranger on the shore

I sometimes travel

But this is strictly in my dreams

He feeds the seagulls in the winds with ashes

And as he speaks he’s got my father’s voice

And he says:

Son, here is some bread i broke for you

Son, here is some wine.

Those were the days, my friend

Dein aschenes haar, sulamith

Der tod ist ein meister aus deutschland