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Home > Wings of Desire
Wings of Desire

Wings of Desire

Wings of Desire is a mesmerizing German film directed by Wim Wenders. It was initially released in 1987 and has since become a classic in the world of cinema. This poetic masterpiece takes viewers on a thought-provoking journey, exploring themes of love, humanity, and the beauty of the everyday.

The film tells the tale of two angels, Damiel and Cassiel, who silently watch over the bustling city of Berlin. They observe the lives of its inhabitants, offering comfort and solace to those in distress. Damiel, portrayed by the brilliant Bruno Ganz, becomes captivated by a trapeze artist named Marion, played by the talented Solveig Dommartin.

Throughout the movie, Damiel's longing to experience life as a human intensifies. He yearns to taste the simple pleasures of existence, such as feeling the wind on his face or savoring a cup of coffee. This desire is further fueled when Damiel encounters an aging actor named Peter Falk, who is in town shooting a movie. Falk, playing a fictionalized version of himself, engages in a soul-stirring conversation with Damiel, encouraging him to pursue his dreams and embrace the world of mortals.

Wings of Desire beautifully blends black and white cinematography with color sequences, symbolizing the transition from the heavenly realm to the earthly plane. The angels' perspectives are depicted in monochrome, capturing the city's dreary aspects, while vibrant hues are employed when the film delves into the mortal realm.

The movie's ethereal atmosphere is enhanced by a hauntingly beautiful soundtrack composed by Jürgen Knieper. The music perfectly complements the contemplative nature of the film, evoking a sense of melancholy, yearning, and the transcendence of human emotions. The soundscape immerses viewers into the emotional depths of the characters' inner worlds, intensifying the film's profound impact. You can now play and download these evocative sounds through various online platforms, experiencing a piece of Wings of Desire's artistic allure.

Wings of Desire is a captivating exploration of human existence, highlighting the complexities, struggles, and extraordinary beauty found in everyday life. It challenges conventional notions of spirituality, seeking to unveil the profound interconnectedness between the celestial and the terrestrial realms.

Wim Wenders masterfully crafts a cinematic symphony that resonates deeply with audiences, taking them on a transcendent journey that lingers in their minds long after the film's conclusion. The incredible performances by Bruno Ganz, Solveig Dommartin, and Peter Falk bring the characters to life, infusing the story with poignancy and authenticity.

If you haven’t yet experienced the captivating world of Wings of Desire, it is highly recommended to immerse yourself in this cinematic gem. Its emotional depth, stunning visuals, and thought-provoking narrative offer a profound and unforgettable experience. So, sit back, press play, and surrender to the magic that is Wings of Desire.

Play and download the sounds from this cinematic masterpiece here, as you embark on a journey of love, longing, and the unending pursuit of what it means to be truly human.

A blind woman who sensed my presence and groped at her watch.
A brusque shout,
A desire to love...
A double knot is the only way to keep it tied.
A feeling of happiness that l could keep forever.
A Frenchman flew over the city in a hot air balloon 200 years ago.
A liturgy in which no one needs to be initiated
A long story.
A schoolboy describing to his teacher
A sour smell.
A Soviet jet fighter crashed into the lake in Spandau.
A story of new ancestors.
A tree floated by, still green, with an empty bird's nest.
A woman alone,
A woman in the rain who folded up her umbrella
Ah, l see.
Albert Camus.
All gone.
All over.
All the people l've met who'll live on in my head.
All these thoughts...
Always remain serious.
An angel's passing by!
An ear.
An old human expression l've just come to understand today.
And "now" and "now."
And a man who wanted to end it all today
And a subway conductor, instead of calling out the station's name,
And an old man read to a child from The Odyssey,
And be greeted by the others, even if just with a nod.
And demands a toll when another wants to enter
And didn't make faces when photographed.
And don't look at me.
And drive them off, once and for all.
And every man in the world will look at me.
And feed the cat like Philip Marlowe...
And fills my heart.
And from this man's shout and that of his followers, we learned to speak.
And gone off with the stranger we crossed paths with in the street.
And hoists his solitary flag everywhere.
And hugged him.
And in every city it longed for a larger city...
And it still does.
And it still is.
And it still quivers there today.
And it still waits that way.
And it's only there that my country, the land of storytelling, begins.
And it's still that way.
And it's still the same today.
And l could just as well have left him there
And l fly around the ring like a dumb chicken.
And l found home.
And l like it that way.
And l'll go on having one.
And learn to bear a harsh sight,
And let herself get drenched.
And looked over his shoulder into space.
And none of it will be true.
And not just because it has to.
And not that green eyed boy at the train station?
And now the cigarette butt rolling along.
And now you're crying.
And on Earth, the campfires, the leaping about,
And once mankind loses its storyteller...
And only today's rain puddles quiver.
And people weren't friendly anymore,
And protected for the future.
And put the trailers in winter storage.
And she was all around me.
And she'll take me in hers.
And steamed cauliflower.
And still later it was paved over.
And stones began to fly.
And studies the morning paper as if he were a world leader.
And that someday this "me" that l am
And that's just at the border.
And the antlers floating like branches down the river.
And the astonished teacher.
And the balcony with the beautiful stranger.
And the mouth, slightly open, repeats it,
And the police weren't either.
And the stagnant water to flow.
And the whole place is full of people with the same dream as ours.
And the world emerges before my eyes
And the young listener stopped blinking completely.
And then l'm a waitress again.
And then suddenly
And then these young girls make eyes at men...
And there's no one around
And these small states are mobile.
And they lived happily ever after.
And they still do now.
And this puddle to be the sea.
And through him reveal Everyman.
And to watch the crowd after l'd had my cigar
And today...
And trail their filth around them in circles.
And two automobiles:
And we go swimming every day.
And what do you have to report?
And why not there?
And why not there?
And why not you?
And why not you?
And wiggle your toes, barefoot, like this.
And you're a bunch of birdbrains!
And you're faking it too.
And you're still wet from swimming the Baltic Sea.
Angel...
Another fallen angel.
Anxiety makes me sick,
Are there still borders? More than ever.
As a child,
As excitedly as it still does today.
As if inside my body a hand was gently closing.
As if pain had no past.
As l came up the mountain out of the misty valley into the sun...
As long as he ran straight ahead
As powerful as it is effortless.
At every step, every gust of wind,
At last a fool. At last an inner light.
At last it's becoming serious.
At last mad, at last at peace.
At last mad, at last redeemed.
At last mad, no longer alone.
At least they look it. They could be the real thing.
At Löhse and Wolff, a famous tobacconist,
At times like this, like now.
Atop every mountain it longed for a higher mountain...
Be glad they forgot about you. You're finally free.
Be quiet!
Be sure you don't turn right at Goltzstrasse.
Beautiful!
Became an organ grinder, ignored or mocked,
Because it's like l'm talking to someone else at the same time.
Because only part of me worries. The other part doesn't believe it.
Because they need me
Behind closed eyes...
Berlin means nothing to me. Havel? ls that a river or a lake?
Berlin.
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
Between the lots is a strip of no man's land
Black.
Blackie, l think l'm lost.
Both infant and ancient,
Bread and wine.
But at the same time it all seemed left to chance.
But it would be nice to come home after a long day
But l could just as well have put my arm around a horse's neck.
But l do know l'll never become a t****ze artist.
But l tell my tales, as in the beginning,
But l would have liked to be lonesome.
But l'm just one
But l've never lived alone.
But no one has thus far succeeded
But not to talk about it.
But sometimes l get fed up with this spiritual existence.
But suddenly he started running zigzag,
But the story of the grass, the sun, the leaping and shouting
But the story still rises from the depths,
But the things of peace, one just as good as the next.
But there is no other bank. There's only the river.
But there is such a thing as deciding.
But what if time itself is the disease?
By him who arrives at each small state with the right password.
By the tents in the desert all pretense.
Bye, Archie. See you next year.
Bye, Marion. Lots of love.
Casting off this boundless freedom and tying me to the earth.
Catching a fish pretense.
Close your eyes once more.
Come, l'll show you something else.
Concentrate, Marion.
Decide!
Did you hurt yourself?
Disguised by a hedge or a ditch.
Disowned by your parents, betrayed by your wife.
Do no more than look, gather, testify, verify, preserve.
Do you know why you're crying? For whom?
Do you recall our first visit here?
Does evil actually exist, and people who are really evil?
Does he know what he's doing?
Don't cry!
Don't dangle fly! You're an angel.
Don't think about anything. Just be.
Down on the earth and up in the sky?
Draw all the demons out of passers by
Drinking and eating pretense.
Driven to the ends of the earth,
Each oblivious to the other.
Each person carries his own state around with him
Easter Sunday.
Emptiness, fear, fear, fear...
Empty. lncompatible.
Enough of the world behind the world!
Even his children shake their rattles
Even more so.
Even the plains, even Berlin, has its hidden passes.
Even tickets. She never threw anything away.
Every proprietor, or even tenant,
Every street has its own border line.
Every time we've gotten involved, it's been a pretense.
Everything was full of life, and all life was one.
Everything's possible.
Faces...
Fear of death.
Fear.
Fear...
Fifty years ago The Olympic Games!
First l'll take a bath.
Five years ago.
For heaven's sake!
For innumerable years, only fish had leapt.
For once just to guess instead of always knowing.
For the first time since his schooldays and quite fluently.
Fortunately no one can do that now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
From the outside, from the realm of light,
Gazing ahead and floating into orbit.
Give me your hand or don't.
Gloriously alone.
Go up Potsdamer to Kleistpark,
God, l feel old!
Great Bear Lake.
Had a cowlick in its hair,
Has she already got my letter? l hope she hasn't read it yet.
Has turned me into a human being.
Having lambs roasted and wine served
He seemed free, and again we could laugh with him.
He was so good. Too good.
He who went from being the angel of storytelling
He wouldn't be out here in this muck.
Here l go. But why?
Here?
Hey, it's two marks.
High up north.
His forehead smeared with grass,
History had not yet begun.
History would continue without killing and war.
Hopscotch.
How a fern grew out of the earth,
How can it be that this "me" that l am
How do l get to the Akazienstrasse?
How should l live?
How should l think?
How they all stand there, staring at me.
How will l get a refrigerator and washing machine in here?
How will l pay for it all on my little pension?
In all men's eyes, enlightened by the sun.
In my sing song voice, which sustains me,
In singing an epic of peace.
In the form of a fly in amber or a fat bellied bottle.
Instead of "Yes" and "Amen."
Into the meaning of the words and sentences.
Invisible...
Is the sparrows.
It gagged on spinach, peas, rice pudding,
It had no opinion about anything, no habits.
It hurled a stick at a tree like a lance,
It lived on apples and bread, and that was enough,
It played with enthusiasm.
It walked with its arms swinging.
It was the time of these questions:
It was the time of these questions:
It will also lose its childhood.
It's you.
Just an illusion of a world in front of the world?
Just before dashing his head against the wall, a prisoner said, "Now!"
Just to be able to say, like this very moment...
Keep the distance. Keep the word.
Keep to yourself.
Know...
Knows.
L already bought him a guitar. Now he wants drums too?
L am together.
L can imagine anything.
L can still see that woman
L can't find Potsdamer Platz.
L can't fly with these things.
L can't go along with this anymore.
L can't just l've still got so much to do!
L couldn't say who l am. l don't have the slightest idea.
L don't care.
L don't have to father a child or plant a tree,
L don't know if there's such a thing as destiny,
L don't want to always hover above. l'd rather feel a weight within
L dreamed of a stranger...
L have a story!
L have no roots, no story, no country,
L have to wake up from this dream.
L haven't seen her in four years. She's been sick the last two.
L just have to be ready,
L just have to want it. Then l can get back on my feet.
L know so little.
L know...
L learned to be amazed last night.
L let myself go. l can pull myself up again.
L look up
L met him on the street.
L must put an end to coincidence.
L never imagined it like this,
L never toyed with anyone,
L only have to lift my eyes, and once again l become the world.
L should have told her yesterday that l was sorry.
L still remember how one day...
L stink of gasoline.
L think it's a new moon tonight.
L think l still have the right to be afraid,
L wait for my photo at a photo booth, and out comes someone else's face.
L waited an eternity for someone to say a loving word to me.
L want to enter into the History of the World,
L want to get out of here.
L want to transform what my timeless downward look has taught me
L wanted to live on an island.
L was inside her,
L was with a man, and l was in love...
L will have lived within it.
L will not give up
L won't say a word, but l'll understand every language.
L...
L'd buy 10 tickets and save one mark.
L'd have fallen on your heads long ago if l wasn't.
L'd like to be able to say, "Now..."
L'd like to fly sometime.
L'd like to know. l know nothing.
L'd like to see faces.
L'd like to see it.
L'd love a cup of coffee.
L'd rather not think anymore.
L'll be familiar to everyone and suspect to no one.
L'll be jostled around, and l'll jostle them back.
L'll find her again.
L'll get a table in a packed restaurant.
L'll have to think of something.
L'll never make it tonight.
L'll send you postcards of the Eiffel Tower.
L'll take her in my arms...
L'm a foreigner here, and yet it's all so familiar.
L'm a little bit afraid.
L'm all alone ln my own little zone
L'm an old man with a broken voice,
L'm getting fed up.
L'm glad it's a good day.
L'm here. l'm free.
L'm ready.
L'm so cold and bored.
L'm sorry.
L'm still here!
L've been on the outside long enough, absent long enough.
L've been sitting here since this morning.
L've had it. This can't go on.
L've never been lonely,
L've often been alone,
L've stood outside the world long enough.
Last night...
Later it witnessed Napoleon's retreat...
Leave me alone, shithead!
Less effort, more swing!
Let things happen.
Let's climb down from this watchtower of the never born.
Let's go.
Lf anyone recognizes me, l'll be expelled.
Lf everyone saw them,
Lf l do give up,
Lf l just want it bad enough.
Lf someone trips over my legs, he'll apologize profusely.
Lf someone wants something, he can ask the next guy.
Like a little animal lost in the woods.
Like those refugees recently...
Listen everybody. Hold everything.
Little thing, l can't wait to see you. l wonder what you look like.
Ln a pimpmobile.
Ln a week l could have 500, and it's off to the south.
Ln deepest night, spring will begin today.
Ln the afternoon l'd go there to chat and have a coffee...
Ln the east? The east is really everywhere.
Lnvent a story for myself.
Lonesomeness means l'm whole at last.
Longing for a wave of love to swell up in me.
Longing...
Look my eyes.
Look at me or don't.
Look how the prehistoric river has dried up,
Look, a convertible.
Look.
Look. See those feathers on the water?
Lost his voice.
Lots of love!
Lousy cop.
Ls he ever gonna come to his senses?
Ls it our times that aren't serious?
Ls that my district over there?
Lsn't life under the sun just a dream?
Lsn't what l see and hear and smell
Lt always stops just when it's starting.
Lt binds me.
Lt could imagine paradise very clearly,
Lt couldn't even imagine nothingness,
Lt doesn't matter.
Lt happened once.
Lt has a taste.
Lt must finally become serious.
Lt often sat cross legged, took off running,
Lt reached up into the treetop for cherries
Lt saw many beautiful people, while today that's a stroke of luck.
Lt took a long time for the river to find its bed
Lt waited for the first snow,
Lt wanted the stream to be a river, the river a torrent,
Lt was a crazy idea to stand here. Too much traffic.
Lt was a lively place.
Lt was shy around strangers,
Lt was too good to be true.
Lt was true in the night, and it's true now, during the day.
Lt wasn't even on last night.
Lt will be a story of giants...
Lt will never change.
Lt'll come back.
Lt's a full moon too,
Lt's all a fraud, just like The Man with the Golden Helmet.
Lt's all over, and l don't feel a thing.
Lt's almost over.
Lt's crackling under my feet. What time is it?
Lt's easier with wings than without.
Lt's embarrassing to talk about myself...
Lt's foggy and cold. l put on a sweater, afraid of the cold.
Lt's funny. l don't feel a thing.
Lt's gone already.
Lt's just 10 pfennigs.
Lt's now...
Lt's still going on.
Lt's wonderful to live as spirit and testify for all eternity
Lts first word was a shout.
Make an effort?
Mama!
Man, l could use Klaus right now. He'd really give me a boost.
Mankind will lose its storyteller.
Marion, don't worry.
Marion, make an effort.
Marion, not like that! Mon dieu!
Marion!
Maybe because l'm too curious.
Maybe he'll get a grip on himself one day.
Maybe he'll give it to me.
Maybe l'll find a waitressing job.
Maybe she doesn't have money to see another doctor,
Maybe that's not the question.
Me, their storyteller, their bard, their choirmaster
Merde.
Mine and the chocolate shop's.
Money buys happiness. How to live?
Moonrise, 7:04 p.m. Moonset...
More than anything in the world.
Mother she never was my mother.
Music's all he's got in his head.
Must l give up now?
My amazement at man and woman,
My child.
My circus dreams just memories ten years from now.
My father my father was my father.
My father.
My God, what will become of that boy?
My heroes are no longer warriors and kings,
My mother.
My sister's coming. l have to get out of here.
My wife.
Neon lights in the evening sky...
Nice.
No bloodshed in all the city.
No longer "forever" and "for eternity."
No more roaming back and forth through the centuries as in the past.
No mortal child was conceived, only an immortal shared image.
No night is more peaceful.
No tears, no grief. Maybe later.
No t****ze on full moon nights.
No way! Crying is out of the question.
No wonder. He only learned rock 'n' roll.
No, don't give me your hand,
No, it's a beer top.
No, l can't take this anymore.
No...
Nonsense. Let's pull it up.
Not for me. l don't know anymore.
Not only the whole city,
Not the last time,
Not with that shabby coat.
Nothing good on TV.
Now it can only guess at it.
Now it can only muster it up
Now it eats all of that,
Now it shudders at the idea.
Now it's your turn.
Now l can only think from one day to the next.
Now l can say it, for tonight l'm lonesome at last.
Now l'm starting to understand.
Now over and over again.
Now, on this very spot...
Now...
Of course l'm making an effort. What do you think l'm doing up here?
Of course! Mother was right....
Of my man.
Of seeing the colors
Of the future of everyone in the square.
Often my thoughts are all wrong,
On my first day, l'll let everyone wait on me.
On the last night no one shows up, you play like fools,
On the Lilienthaler Chaussee, a man slowed down
Once again night falls inside my head.
Once again, no time to really get anywhere.
One of those unexpected decisions you hold on to.
Only my amazement at the two of us,
Only the most ancient traces lead anywhere.
Only the Roman roads still lead into the open.
Only with him could l be lonesome...
Onward into the ford of time, the ford of death!
Open up to him...
Or are hit by laser beams.
Or even just hold an apple in my hand.
Or get your fingers black from the newspaper.
Or it's stolen from you. Just think:
Or never.
Or to feel what it's like to take your shoes off under the table...
Or to have a fever,
Other wings will grow in place of the old ones,
Our farewell to the circus.
Out in the big city at last,
Over the carcasses of wild cats, wild boar and buffalo.
Over time became my readers instead.
Perhaps swerving now and then from sheer joy
Potsdamer Platz is where the Café Josti used to be.
Put a different collector's stamp on each farewell letter.
QUlET!
Remain spirit.
Remember how a highway was built here one day?
Remember how one morning, out of the savannah,
Riding a bicycle with no hands.
Right around here.
Saved by the very tale from present troubles
See those tire marks on the asphalt,
See you next season. Don't forget the Alekan Circus.
Shaking out the bedcovers.
She came to take me home,
She collected everything.
She doesn't love you. Never did.
She gave it to me.
She had little feet, always hopping from one to the other.
She isn't gone, Cassiel. l know it.
She just couldn't.
She was so cute when she danced. We were all alone.
She'll teach me everything.
She's dead.
Sitting at tables,
So each man ventures beyond his borders
So empty...
So it's over. Not even a season.
So l always headed east on the subway to go home.
So l've grown older.
So this can't be the Potsdamer Platz.
So what are you thinking?
Some of it still stood, but for how long?
Some stole food from the dogs in the camps.
Some time later, two stags fought on the bank here.
Someone who'd say, "l love you so much today."
Something happened.
Sometimes beauty is the only thing that matters.
Sometimes it's like you have to bend to go on living.
Speak to me, O Muse, of the storyteller
Standing up there in the ruins...
Sticks his nameplate on the door like a coat of arms
Still smells the same, only dustier.
Stop staring. Haven't you ever seen anyone croak?
Strange people. They keep shouting...
Streetcars, horse drawn omnibuses,
Stromboli.
Suddenly shouted "Tierra del Fuego."
Sun, lightning, and thunder in the sky,
Sunrise, 7:22 a.m. Sunset, 4:28 p.m.
Surround him with the labyrinth of shared bliss.
Swimming by the waterfall.
Tank tracks included.
Tell me of the men, women, and children who will look for me
Tell me, O Muse, of that poor immortal singer,
Thank you.
That asshole's circled the block three times.
That could be the beginning of a story.
That its inspiration is not enduring?
That will be my first day.
That would be so wonderful.
That would cost a fortune.
That would take the grin off your face.
That you could ask.
That's a nice picture.
That's enough.
That's good: sun and star.
That's it for the circus this year.
That's still going on as well.
That's what makes me so clumsy: the lack of pleasure.
That's why he's dead.
The badges reflect best.
The beautiful stranger.
The billowing grass.
The biped appeared, our long awaited likeness?
The boathouse floating far out on the lake...
The building was half gone.
The child needs oxygen. l have to breathe deeply.
The circus is over.
The circus... l'll miss it.
The colors of stones.
The colors.
The curve of a neck...
The dancing in a circle, cave drawings, and writing.
The delight of lifting one's head out here in the open,
The desire to love!
The dimwitted ones,
The dream about the house inside the house.
The drying onions as good as
The eyes of a child.
The Far East.
The fire on the cattle range...
The flags appeared.
The Frenchman.
The German people are divided into as many states as there are individuals,
The glacier calved, and the icebergs drifted to the north.
The horizon.
The image that we created will be with me when l die.
The light from the room in the garden.
The man who lives there is called Peter.
The mayor's own car will stop and give me a lift.
The Mississippi Delta.
The morning light.
The new moon of decision.
The night flight.
The one thing l will miss
The only thing that grew was grass
The passes, portals and crevices
The peace and quiet of Sunday.
The pebbles in the streambed.
The person asleep in the next room.
The plane circles over Berlin... until it crashes.
The potatoes in the ashes...
The primordial ones?
The red and yellow train.
The sheriff came by.
The Southern Cross.
The spots from the first drops of rain.
The story of war, and it's still going on.
The sun.
The sun's already setting. Now l know where west is...
The sun's at my back, and the star's on my left.
The taxi driver's daughter was my friend,
The tree trunk that crosses the marsh.
The trout in the water are really electric eels.
The very last time.
The water running in the gutters,
The Wertheim department store was here too.
The white tablecloth outdoors.
The whole square was covered with them.
The whole world is taking part right now in our decision.
The Wild West.
The wind in your face, the first snow in the air,
The world seems to be sinking into dusk,
Then a few days ago, or a month ago.
Then came the cloud of flies,
Then came the moment when the swarm of bees drowned.
Then even the stones come alive.
Then he spoke English with an American soldier
Then l went abroad.
Then l'll buy a newspaper and read it from headlines to horoscope.
Then l'll get a shave, from a Turkish barber, if possible,
Then one of them suddenly broke out of the circle and ran straight ahead.
Then right at Grunewald past Gleditsch.
Then turn left, and there you are.
There are other suns besides the one up in the sky, Cassiel.
There is no greater story than ours, that of man and woman.
There it is again, my feeling of well being...
There's a little house
These people were my parents, but it could have been others.
These things happen. lt's just how it is.
They are the image of necessity...
They no longer sit in a circle but apart,
They're for real.
Things don't always turn out the way you'd like.
Things will work out.
Think of a seagull!
This can't be it.
This entrance is for the crew. Extras enter around the corner.
This evening frightens me. lt's silly.
This is a good jacket. A bargain. Just the pocket's torn.
This really has to stop.
This time l'm actually doing it. Funny l'm so calm.
Those guys knew a thing or two about style.
Those who once listened to me
Three would be fun
Through one's teeth!
Throwing a hip out wrestling with one of them pretense.
Time heals all,
To be a savage.
To be able to say "Ah!" and "Oh!" and "Ouch!"...
To be close to the colors.
To be excited not just by the mind, but by a meal...
To feel your bones as you walk along.
To find out who l am, who l've become.
To get enthused about evil for once,
To lie!
To live... one look is enough.
To look in the mirror is to watch yourself think.
To only what is spiritual in people's minds.
To reach further inside any state requires the right passwords.
To take the empty seat at a card game
To watch is not to look down from above, but at eye level.
Today it's covered with grass, sunk like a Roman road...
Today's German soul can only be conquered and governed
Tomorrow morning we pack up everything
Tonight's the last time l'll do my good old number.
Trading stamps, postcards.
Transferable.
Tristan da Cunha lsland.
Twenty marks, 40 marks, 80 marks.
Twenty years ago today,
Until l find Potsdamer Platz.
Valley of the primeval river.
Vanished already.
Veins of leaves.
Wanna Bet? was great last night.
Want a care package?
Was it "Ah" or "Oh," or merely a groan?
Was l the only one who wasn't serious?
Wasn't "me" before l existed,
Water level of the Havel and the Spree...
We are sitting in the People's Square...
We can only be savages to the extent we remain absolutely serious.
We can't pay the rent or electricity.
We embody something.
We have embarked.
We let mornings and evenings go by and just waited.
We put the top down and leave the smog behind.
We wanted to go to the cemetery, like we used to.
We were at last able to laugh, for the first time.
We're broke.
We're defining the game for everybody.
We're more than just the two of us now.
We're there already. lt's 9:00 a.m.
Welcome him wholly into me...
Well, it ain't too late...
Well, not with these chicken feathers.
Well?
What am l doing this moment?
What are you doing?
What are you playing? Sounds like a firemen's ball.
What is it about peace
What more does he want?

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