A cannibal of currency
You’re not yourself anymore.
Became your purse long ago,
Sense of self tied to coins
Of which you’ve never held.
Little man, little man,
where is your home?
The house on this hill
Just an empty shell
Painted like so much canvas.
There for the eyes of your peers
But your peers aren’t your friends
And your friends aren’t around
Tell me please, where did they go?
Little man, little man,
Do you hear the sound?
No one is calling your name
Where did they go
And where are they now
And why aren’t your friends in their homes?
Little man, little man
Do you hear the sound?
They’re making it plain as day.
You ate their income
Ate them of their house and their home.
A cannibal for currency-
Consumed all your friends,
Fat little pig on the hill.
Little man, little man
(You) can no longer ignore the sounds
Of ten thousand mouths
All hungry for you.
You ate their money
But you couldn’t stomach
The pure human spirit inside.
Now they have crawled back,
Out from the ghettos,
Starving and hungry for you.
Forced to eat each other,
You’ve all but raised cannibals,
But this time of flesh and of blood.
Little pig, little pig,
Can you hear the sound,
Or have you become deaf
To your own cries as well?
No one will miss you
You don’t have a home
Your friends became food
A long time ago.
(Die Geld von die Leute Sie Essen gekauft
Sie isst ihr Geld,
Mehr jeden Tag,
Kein Geld fur Essen
Sie isst Sich,
Jagd nach dem Hunger,
Fett kleiner Mann,
Jetzt der Jaeger ist Essen fur jeden Mund
Kleinen Schwein, Kleinen Schwein
Konnen Sie den ton horen?)*
Greasy lip smacks
Sound like ten thousand claps,
The only applause that you’ll ever hear.
----
*The absolutely horribly written German stanza (pls halp).
The money of the people bought their food
You ate their money, More every day,
No money for food, They ate themselves,
Hunting the hungry, Fat little man,
Now the hunter is food for every mouth,
Little pig, little pig, Can you hear the sound?
It’s been forever since I spoke any sort of German and it’s fading fast. Sad face.
