The children on the platform look up at the moon. Their song-breath rises, driving a pistonthought of parting on the out-stroke and sorrow on the in. The moon smiles down at the children with a big chalky grin. “Safe journey,” it says. The children draw pictures of the grinning moon on the side of the carriage in chalk while Berlin’s sparrows scuttle in the steamlight and steely points, ten miles down the line, obey levered commands and re-align.
“Move again”
Papa says “move again”
“Move again” Papa says
This is how it must be
This is how it must be
This is what my Papa says
This is how it must be
This is what my Papa says
The apartment is mine
I say the apartment is mine
You must leave
Papa wird wuetend und schreit
Papa nimmt mich auf sein Knie
,,Das muss sein
Und Du musst jetzt ein guter Junge sein
Und tun was die Damen im Zug Dir sagen.
Du bist doch jetzt ein grosser Junge.”
Don’t leave me
Don’t leave me
Papa told me there’s a new home
We are going to in England
Papa wird wuetend und schreit
Papa nimmt mich auf sein Knie
,,Das muss sein
Move again, move again,
Move again, move again
There’s a home we’re going to
There’s a new home
We are going to in England