Все Тут Online - Daniel Kahn & The Painted Bird - Bad Old Songs

I followed you over the border down to the Spree
You were standing alone by the water waiting for me
We wandered along by the river, the towers all shrouded in haze
& we kissed by the wire and they all held their fire
In the good old bad old days

Just remember how lovely it couldn’t have been
When the world was as closed as a door
I remember those nights down in old east Berlin
With the microphones listening under the floor
And every stamp in this passport of mine
Was a record of kisses you gave
Yes we suffered in style and it’s all in the file
In the good old bad old days

All the streetlights were waltzing together, crimson & green
& your dress was as gray as the weather, oh what a dream
We built up a city of whispers and classified war dossiers
I gave you control of my papers and soul

In the good old bad old days
Ah yes wasn’t it miserable, wasn’t it grand?
When the world had an iron divide
And people could take a political stand
Just by singing a song for the opposite side
Now nobody cares who you are anymore and nobody cares what you say
It’s liberty’s curse, but was it really much worse
In the good old bad old days?
Now Alyosha is gathering flowers every May
& the statue of Marx by the tower faces away
By the wall is a souvenir table with hammers & sickles displayed
On new watches, that work, and they’re sold by a Turk
In these good old bad new days

Now I’m working for Euros and drinking alone
Where we used to spend marks at the bar
And the weeds have grown over the border of stone
That cuts through the town like a surgical scar

And so many streets on this faded old map
Are like names written over a grave
It all makes me so mad cause it wasn’t that bad
In the good old bad old days

So don’t look for a final solution here in Berlin
For capitalist prostitution comes from within
Don’t worry about revolution we’ll just keep the aesthetic clichés
In this market of fleas, selling klezmer CDs
For the good old bad old days

So Genossen, tavarishi, let’s make a toast
To the time when the state knew your name
And we’ll all say “l’chaim“, “na zdrovye“ und “Prost“
To that braver old world where we all are the same
Where nobody loses & everyone wins
Just as long as each comrade obeys
But that’s all in the past so let’s raise up a glass
To the good old bad old days