I run along the platform, don't know where I go.
An express zooms by.
A train charges like a bull.
I clutch the letter in my hand - it says:
You feel as dead as stone.
Ha! And you're looking for a wood
To build a bed in the moss.
Your baritone sax is there too.
Pipes should grow in fields
The old woman pays in small change
We're waiting for the next train
I ask the old woman about the wood
She says: My Udo died long ago
Sweets were melting, sticky in my handbag.
We climb aboard our train
At Wertheim's there's a salamander
I'll bring one with me in the moss
When I get out of the train in Hamburg
I run through the streets down to the Elbe.
I see you standing on the bank
I grab you and you don't hear a thing
You say: go to the other bank
The ferry goes tomorrow
I thought you lived deep in the forest
I knew nothing of your banks...?