The meadows are swampy, beautiful is the blackness
Their interior steams and burns, If you lean in, you’re sure to hear it.
How it grumbles, how it rumbles, green and yellow and cinnamon
Who knows it, remembers, who doesn’t know it, remembers.
Yeah the hell, let’s give a story, tales of brighter lust.
Just by the tree outside the gate, we hear the fairy’s dust.
Gob’lins dance, trolls tinkle, orcs will pamper us.
Naked on a veranda, the rabbit and his bust.
High above in that vast’ness, there flies a cat.
Three-coloured she glides along, the sun is her companion.
Do you remember, how it will be once: beautiful, colourful, dirty.
Today no worries, round and round, we’re dancing till the moon.
The porcupine beats his drums, cloggy as the snow today,
Koalas draw daisy flowers, painted with raffia brushes.
If you don’t look closely – with half a tooth deaf –
won’t see it from a far way, the magic in the bushes.
Devil’s part is certain, he promises better mornings.
God is in lustful retreat, this day will soon be hist’ry.
Then she roars the hell together: Hooray the world is ending!
Sheeps are whistling, pigs are dancing, mankind was never existing.
When then the world stands at the end, in five of billion of years,
the sun will be bloated, we can hardly wait.
Ants and crocodiles will sing: Folk, now listen to the signals!
And if the folk keep on that dream, it will never more be late.
The orc elf with the tight dress, smart and fierce for herself,
she stands in the garden, eating the biscuits: Go away!
In the Bodden near Asgard, all lies down there swampy,
Get used to it, I’ll see you soon, and have a punky day!
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