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When one woman says to another: |
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Come on, let me be your man. |
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Even though there's nothing there |
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there could be something about that. |
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With this uncertain knowledge |
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they love each other everywhere. |
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Who seeks diligently shall find |
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but not in this case. |
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Because that which they are seeking |
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is not in its place. |
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Already there is an epiphany: |
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There is a substitute for anything. |
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Refrain: |
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When it's old, when it flies away, |
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when it's simply in the dirt, |
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when it's completely crooked and slanted, |
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when it's just manure, when it's just stink. |
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When it doesn't fit and just pinches |
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and you are slowly going mad. |
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And is the noose already hanging |
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above your neck. |
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Don't stick your head in the sand, |
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you are a valuable treasure. |
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The answer is obvious: |
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There is a substitute for everything, everything! |
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And even if one day |
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it happens suddenly, |
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and the cruel life |
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shaves you thoroughly. |
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You ride a tandem bicycle by yourself, |
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your dog lies in her bed. |
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You attend men's clubs, |
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and lift the glasses to your mouth. |
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You think about it, |
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now you have a lot of space at home. |
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You pet your full bottle |
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and call it: Darling. |
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Refrain |
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(If you feel like a loser, |
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then go see my brother in law. |
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While he likes to listen to German Schlager*, |
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he owns a spare part warehouse.**) |
