Jennifer Rostock U.S.
Phantombild

The city puts on the night like a much-too-tight dress
Nothing but vanity
Who already knows their neighbors?
Who has the time?
Nothing but vanity

We play city, country, plenty
And we’re searching until the end
But the thirst is never quenched
And only one idea serves as the planning for my search in the end
Just a nearly faded picture

The final star falls tonight
We’re awake much too long
And nobody knows what’s coming up
The tired moths fall into the light
I’m driving too quickly and barely ready to stop
And nobody says how it is

I only vaguely know what I want
And I only have a composite sketch
Without path and signs, without plates
Because I only have a composite sketch of you

Throw your values over the curb
Because how honest can a word be
That you give while in pain?
Where it itches, you aren’t allowed to scratch
I’ve searched for you on several mattresses
Loved in vain

City, country, plenty
We’re taking the last bus
And accepting the nausea
I’m eating paper and puking confetti
Tell me when will it stop?
When will it stop?

The final star falls tonight …

No cross marks your location
No map gives an answer
But I need your hand there
There where mine grabs into the emptiness