| From great knowledge comes only sorrow |
| From a reckless mind, only ditches and moats |
| From a beautiful soul, only scabs and lice |
| From universal love, only mugs in blood |
| In the sheet on the wind, barefoot into the dew |
| From fruitless ideas to disembodied guests |
| From set tables to broken heads |
| From closed doors to buried beasts |
| On a parallel track a black satellite flies |
| It will calm us and save us and bring us peace |
| Under a rough wing, night at the round table |
| A red and white poster: «hey, rev up your scooter!» |
| Come together everyone for the meaningless forum |
| At the universal congress |
| How to deal with our delirium? |
| To wedge our will into idiot land |
| To sit silently and tap on the table |
| Because from great knowledge comes only sorrow |
| From a reckless mind, only ditches and moats |