Der Mann mit dem Fagott

You feel how we lose time
The soul never remains still
We don't live, we function
In restlessness instead of emotion

My father's father
He knew a man
A minstrel on the street
In Bremen sometime

He appeared out of nowhere
Strangely costumed
And whoever heard him play
Was touched deep inside

The people stopped
And listened as if spellbound
It was as if the whole city
Suddenly found peace
Everyone was transformed by his melody
Captured by inexplicable magic

Listen to the man with the bassoon
Open your soul to every sound
And he also seems to be a juggler
A clown a Don Quixote
Listen to the man with the bassoon

And he also seems to be a juggler
A clown a Don Quixote
Listen to the man with the bassoon

My father's father
And the crowd in the twilight
They heard and understood
And gained confidence

And night came from the east
Where he came from and what it was called
And an echo still sounded in the streets
When he left her

And like a ghost passes by
The shooting star fades
So he disappeared
The mysterious guest
And he never returns
His message remains here
Live as you feel inside

Listen to the man with the bassoon
Open your soul to every sound
And he also seems to be a juggler
A clown a Don Quixote
Listen to the man with the bassoon

And he also seems to be a juggler
A clown a Don Quixote
Listen to the man with the bassoon

And he also seems to be a juggler
A clown a Don Quixote
Listen to the man with the bassoon