Text: Stephan Eicher. 1000 Vies. Walking.

Like a wrecking ball we rolled through this town
into the teeth of it?s contented smile
like a snake we crawled across it?s feet
they witched in sleep
the city dreamed two drunk men walking

We were hungry and the trees were bare
we spat on their roots until our mouths were dry
if it promised to end this nameless emptiness
it went in our mouths
the city dreamed of two fire eaters

But if not for just one word from a friend
by chance or by design
I would have broken my neck
on some dark stone steps
singing ?any town , is a good place to die"

afraid of the kiss of getting burned on the lips
I lean just close enough to light my cigarette
I climb the steps with the key to my room
My hands are warm
My pockets are full of stolen fire

Like a fisT he arcs through ancient dust
into the jaws of the beast the chrome and the rust
like a Saint who turned his back on one kind word
he seldom sleeps
The radio, plays a drunk man walking