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ArtistDas ist ein beinhartes Protestlied Allerdings richtet sich die Kritik nicht gegen eine bestimmte Gruppe Sondern gegen Jederman der sich betroffen fühlt – auch gegen mich selbst Er hod a klanes Häusl in der greanen Au Er hod a guten Posten und a dicke süße Frau Er tut si bei der Arbeit net de Händ verstauchen Er kaun an jeden Sundog a Virginia rauchen Do sogt da mir gehts guat, auf de aundan hau i in huat Hinter meiner, vorder meiner, links, rechts güts nix Ober meiner, unter meiner siach i nix Spür nix, hear nix und i riach nix Denk i nix und red i nix und tu i nix Waun da Wind wahd in de Gossn Waun da Wind wahd am Land Waun da wind wahd, do steckt da Sein Köpferl in Sand Do zeig i earm a Stodt aus lauter Fetzen und Scherbn An Plotz wo de Krankn im Rinnsäu sterbm Gras in der Schüssl, im Gsicht de Fliegn De Kinder haum an Wosserbauch und Kretzn am Hirn Sie stinken wie der Mist, damits das net vergißt Do sogt da Hinter meiner, vorder meiner, links, rechts güts nix Ober meiner, unter meiner siach i nix Spür nix, hear nix und i riach nix Denk i nix und red i nix und tu i nix Waun da Wind wahd in de Gossn Waun da Wind wahd am Land Waun da wind wahd, do steckt da Sein Köpferl in Sand I was an Plotz do traut sie kana wos sogn Und rührn sie sich a bisserl, sans dawischt beim brotn Do holns de Kiwara um vieri in da fruah Eini ins Hefen, de Tür fest zua Sie brechn erna de Händ und tretns in de Zähnt Do sogt da Hinter meiner, vorder meiner, links, rechts güts nix Ober meiner, unter meiner siach i nix Spür nix, hear nix und i riach nix Denk i nix und red i nix und tu i nix Waun da Wind wahd in de Gossn Waun da Wind wahd am Land Waun da wind wahd, do steckt da Sein Köpferl in Sand Es pfeifn de Kranaten, es donnert und kracht Sie hockn in der Grubn des gaunze Nocht Sie schiaßn auf olles wos sie rührt Sie schiaßn das de Krachn glüht Da Mutter ihre Buam, fallen um als wia de Ruam Do sogt da Hinter meiner, vorder meiner, links, rechts güts nix Ober meiner, unter meiner siach i nix Spür nix, hear nix und i riach nix Denk i nix und red i nix und tu i nix Waun da Wind wahd in de Gossn Waun da Wind wahd am Land Waun da wind wahd, do steckt da Sein Köpferl in Sand La la la la la la La la la la la la Waun da wind wahd, do steckt da Sein Köpferl in Sand (((no text in image at all)))
https://youtu.be/hDeFYKmgePQ
Arik Brauer - Köpferl im Sand
Translated Prompt (with Google translator)
- Head in the sand -
This is a hardcore protest song. However, the criticism isn't directed at any specific group, but at everyone who feels affected – including myself. He has a little house in the green meadow. He has a good job and a plump, sweet wife. He doesn't sprain his hands at work. He can smoke a Virginia every Sunday. Then he says, "I'm doing fine, I don't give a damn about the others." Behind me, in front of me, left, right, there's nothing. Above me, below me, I see nothing. I feel nothing, hear nothing, and smell nothing. I think nothing, I say nothing, and I do nothing. When the wind blows in the gutter, when the wind blows in the countryside, when the wind blows, he sticks his head in the sand. Then I'll show him a city made entirely of shreds and shards, a place where the sick die in the gutter, grass in the Bowl, flies in my face. The children have water bellies and scabies on their heads. They stink like manure, so you don't forget. Then he says: Behind me, in front of me, left, right, there's nothing. Above me, below me, I see nothing. Feel nothing, hear nothing, and smell nothing. I think nothing, and I say nothing, and I do nothing. When the wind blows in the gutter, when the wind blows in the countryside, when the wind blows, he sticks his head in the sand. I was a place where no one dared to say anything. And if they move a little, they're caught in the act. Then the cops come at four in the morning. Into the cell, the door shut tight. They break their hands and kick them in the teeth. Then he says: Behind me, in front of me, left, right, there's nothing. Above me, below me I see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, and smell nothing. I think nothing, say nothing, and do nothing. When the wind blows in the gutter, when the wind blows in the land, when the wind blows, there he sticks his head in the sand. The atillery shells whistle, it thunders and crashes. They sit in the pit all night long. They shoot at anything that moves. They shoot until the rifle barrel glows red-hot. The mother's boys are falling like flies. Then he says: Behind me, in front of me, left, right, there's nothing. Above me, below me I see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, and smell nothing. I think nothing, say nothing, and do nothing. When the wind blows in the gutter, when the wind blows in the land, when the wind blows, there he sticks his head in the sand.
A striking watercolor and cubist style collage painting depicts an ignorant man with his head in sand, at the center. Around him, vivid scenes unfold: a man with a cigarette overlooking a city and a destroyed cityscape with emaciated figures and a child. Above, a serene house with a classic car and elegantly dressed couple, while to the right, men in military uniforms march into a gate, watched by a figure in a jail cell, with soldiers firing weapons below.