IT’S A PITY YOU’RE A WHORE, MR. BOND Men risk their lives for you Women kiss and die for you It’s the old, old story, Mr. Bond It’s a pity you’re a whore, Mr. Bond You swapped your virtue for secrecy In the name of a game come undone You sold your body to kings and queens You don’t even remember which one. Men go to war over you Women open doors for you It’s the old, old story, Mr. Bond It’s a pity, you’re a whore, Mr. Bond You chose the guise of a royal spy For the thrill of a kill and a fabulous ride In a slip made of silk, she lies by your side Expired before you could say „bye“... Men want to be like you Women want to be with you It’s the old, old story, Mr. Bond It’s a pity you’re a whore, Mr. Bond

MOUNTAIN HILL ROADS An Aston Martin Makes me happy who wouldn’t be glad If an Aston Martin he had? It never explodes On mountain hill roads Cause it’s fast and it’s so Uncannily savvy And it makes me happy On mountain hill roads Oh, oh, oh, In my Aston Martin On mountain hill roads.  

SPY VS. SPY She: I see you He: I hear you She: I feel you He: I’m near you She: I’ll woo you He: I’ll screw you She: I’ll sue you He: I’ll rue you He: I’m the shadow in the alley I’m the footsteps creeping on you in the hallway I’m the eye that’s always watching I’m the ear that’s always planted on the wall He: I’ll grab you She: I’ll snag you He: I’ll shag you She: I’ll frag you She: I’m the drug that makes you careless I’m the gun that’s permanently in your back I’m the bait laid to attract you And then trap you in a dungeon in Irak He: You’re the girl in the hot bikini She And you’re the guy with the dry martini Both: We’ll make love in a hotel in Saigon She: We’ll dance close in Basra City He: You’re so cute, it’s such a pity Both: that I’ll have to shoot you later on She: I love to Deceive you He: I want to Believe you He: She’s the kind of girl who turns you inside out and messes with your head She: He’s the kind of man who kills them left and right and never counts the dead She: I’ll smack you He: I’ll whack you She: I’ll chase you He: I’ll waste you Both: I’ll miss you (CODA He: I’ve been following you around the world so I can casually say Hello, my name is Bond, who are you and are you having a nice stay)

THE IMMIGRANT’S SONG I was taking a walk on the Quaibruck Biding my time with the gulls When I happened upon a statue, of an utterly beautiful boy, ah... there’s no love, there’s no love in Zürich I was drinking a coffee at Sprüngli Watching old people there die And the steely-eyed waitress behaved As if I were shit on the wall, ah... There’s no love, there’s no love In Zürich And I said: Ganymed! How did you feel when your father sold you And I said: Ganymed! What was it like when Jupiter held you And I said: Ganymed! were you pleased or were you delighted? And I said: Ganymed! Were you just a tiny bit frightened? Did you ever wonder if paradise Was worth the price you paid? I went to a party im Chreis Föif And danced like a demon on drugs Got high with the Spider Wolverine and Knightrider, ah... There’s no love, there’s no love In Zürich And I said Ganymed! When you saw all those heavenly horses And I said Ganymed! The return for your luscious resources And I said Ganymed! Were you pleased or were you delighted? And I said Ganymed! Were you just a tiny bit frightened? Did you ever wonder if paradise Was worth the price you paid? And I cried Ganymed! When you got transported to heaven And I cried Ganymed! To serve at the feasts of the gods Were you pleased? Were you delighted? Were you just a tiny bit frightened? Did you ever wonder if paradise Was worth that ultimate lay?

ASK THE CLOWNS Hey, baby, here we are watching people drown on our tee vee sets build another wall between east and west trying not to care trying not to care send them anywhere send them anywhere but here, baby, anywhere but here. who said life was a picknick? who said life was a bag full of jokes. ask the clowns, ask the clowns, ask the clowns, they know. [SVP Song] Hey, du bisch öisi Schwiiz liäbed dich genau wied bisch Wänd dich gar nöd andersch ha schwarzi Schöfli ihr mönd ga. (MEGAPHON-Zwischentexte von HC Strache, Björn Höcke, Marine Le Pen, Ueli Maurer) Bittebitte flüchten Sie weiter. Hier gibt es nichts zu wohnen. Bittebitte flüchten Sie weiter. Hier gibt es nichts zu holen. Bittebitte flüchten Sie weiter. Wir die Autochtonen Brauchen diesen Ort für uns Brauchen diesen Staat für uns Brauchen dieses Land für uns Für Euch gibt es nichts zu holen Ask the clowns. Heimat ist wo du wohnst Keep it simple stupid Deine Freunde keiner sonst Keep it simple stupid Daham statt Islam Keep it simple stupid Mo-mo-moschee baba! Keep it simple stupid Stupid stupid stupid stupid Keep it simple stupid... who said life was a picknick? who said life was a bag full of jokes. ask the clowns, ask the clowns, ask the clowns, they know!

THE QUEEN TAKES A SMOKE Well, the world stands at ease While the Queen takes a smoke On the roof of her mansion A calm summer eve in Bál-móral The world takes a breather While the Queen smokes a tschick Smokes a tschick smokes a tschick Smokes a tschick, in Bál-móral The world resumes turning While still the queen smokes like a dragon, like a dame Shooting rings into the sky Men and women in waiting untuck coats, loosen ties while the Queen takes a smoke underneath a full moon in Balmoral One tschick, then another, State affairs put on hold, Put on hold put on hold Put on hold in Bál-móral The world resumes turning While still the queen smokes like a dragon, like a dame Shooting rings into the sky (Direkt im Anschluss: LA GALE QUI M’AIME ME SUIVE...)

SECRET LIFE I think I’ll have another one, hey Sam, I’ll have another one just one more drink just one more song before I go under before I go under outside the door I heard a girl I heard a girl scream like an eagle hear her cry hear her pain and watch her go under watch her go under bombs exploding everywhere and everytime I see the news I’m so amazed That we’re still here It makes me wonder It makes me wonder REFRAIN Where do you live Please take me Please take me home with you Let me be part Let me be part Of your secret life hide me in the folds of your secret life... how are you (sir) the nurses said how are you (sir) and I said fine it wasn’t true I always lie Before I go under Before I go under We thought we saw The savior come We thought we saw him come along And when he came He laughed and said You’re all going under You’re all going under (Weitere Strophen) Dundun had killed A man he said Had killed a man Or so he said The man still breathed I heard him sigh Before he went under Before he went under I like to ride The high-rail train I like to watch The people there Outside the window Unaware of my Unholy wonder Unholy wonder My brother George He mopped the floor He mopped the floor He mopped and said: „Look at the blood“ There was no blood He made us wonder He made us wonder

ENTWEDER QUANTEN sehr fragile volatile klar verschränkte nie getrennte Zwillinge "Vielleicht ist es besser –" "Vielleicht ist es besser –" "Vielleicht ist es besser –" sehr fragile, volatile, klar verschränkte nie getrennte Photónenzwillinge – – haben keine separate Individualität. Sie sind ein Zustand. Wir reden in Bildern. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. "Vielleicht ist es besser wenn wir –" "Vielleicht ist es besser wenn wir –" Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. Alice empfängt eine Messetsch von Bob. "Vielleicht ist es besser wenn wir –" Alice empfängt eine Messetsch von Bob. "Vielleicht ist es besser wenn wir –" Alice empfängt eine Messetsch von Bob. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. Der Zustand liegt jenseits der Lokalität. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. "Vielleicht ist es besser wenn wir –" (Er Schotte, sie Russin: das kann ja nichts werden.) sehr fragile, volatile, klar verschränkte nie getrennte Photónenzwillinge – – haben keine separate Individualität. Sie sind ein Zustand. Wir reden in Bildern. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. Den Schlüssel kennt Alice. Den Schlüssel kennt Bob. Bob sendet. Alice empfängt. "Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir uns eine Weile –" Und was ist mit Eve? "Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir uns eine Weile –" Der Schlüssel ist absolut abhörsicher. Der Schlüssel ist absolut abhörsicher. Und was ist mit Eve? Den Schlüssel kennt Alice. Den Schlüssel kennt Bob. Bob sendet. Alice empfängt. Und was ist mit Eve? Alice empfängt eine Messetsch von Bob. Und was ist mit Eve? "Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir uns eine Weile lang nicht mehr sehen." Und was ist mit Eve? "Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir uns eine Weile lang nicht mehr sehen." sehr fragile, volatile, klar verschränkte nie getrennte Photónenzwillinge – – haben keine separate Individualität. Sie sind ein Zustand. Wir reden in Bildern. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität. Erst die Messung schafft die Physikalität Der Realität einer definierbaren Lokalität. Erst die Messung schafft die Realität: "Vielleicht ist es besser, wenn wir uns eine Weile lang nicht mehr sehen." (Fuck.)

MANN AUS DEM OSTEN (Sharghi-e-ghamgin) Hey Mann aus dem Osten Als die Sonne auf uns schien Traf mich deine Süße Wie der Schlag des Schmetterlings Meine Trauer löste Sich in deinem dunklen Haar Deine Augen schenkten Mir die Freiheit hell und klar Hey Mann aus dem Osten Du bist wie das Licht am Berg Wie die Sonne die mir so sehr fehlt Du bist wie der Morgen Wie die stolze stille See Schieb die dunklen Tage von uns weg Hey my Persian lover Early morning comes again Birds sing songs of springtime And of our persistent pain Hope leaks from your eyelashs Like the sweet low sound of rain I think of you always When the flowers bloom again. Hey my Persian lover You’re a mountain filled with light Don’t allow the sun to get away You are pure as morning Proud and silent as the sea Let me find contentment in your bay. Ey sharghi-e ghamgin Wakhti aaftaab toro did Tu shahr-e baaruni Buye atr-e to pidjid Shab-ro hesho gom kard Tu gisuye-to gom shod Aaftaab-e aazaadi Az tu djaschm-e to khandid. Ey sharghi-e ghamgin To mesle kuh-e-nuri Nazaar khorshidemun bemire To mesle ruz paaki, mesle daryaa marruri nazaar khaamushi djun begire. (unsung Italian version, Dank an Birgit Haustedt) Hey fanciullo mio Senza te non so morir Cuando non ti sento Il dolor/magon’ mi fa soffrir Nell’ terren’ arido L’anima non puó fiorir Il desir ardente Sta ruband’ il mio sospir

THE BITCH IS BACK The bitch is back The bitch is back The bitch is back The bitch is back Thought she’d stay away, yeah? Thought she’d gone for good. Thought she’d stay away, yeah? Thought she’d gone for good. The bitch is back The bitch is back Hurling dishes at the wall! The bitch is back The bitch is back She seems to be ten feet tall! Thought I’d stay away, yeah? Thought I’d gone for good. Thought I’d stay away, yeah? Thought I’d gone for good. Lover my lover Remember Shanghai Istanbul, Belfast, Rome and Dubai These twenty children Have sprang from your sperm Now here them shouting Burn Daddy burn! The kids are back Look they’re playing with your gun The kids are back Shooting neighbors, having fun Thought we’d go away yeah? Thought we’d gone for good? Thought we wouldn’t stay yeah? Thought we’d gone for good? Mom sang us lullabies of fearless men Gave us explosives and a poisonous pen When we grow up we will be agents too Watch out dear daddy, we’re coming for you The bitch is back The bitch is back! In an ancient grecian mask The bitch is back The bitch is back! And she’s taking you to task Surprise, surprise, the bitch is back Sie bringt 20 Kinder mit im Fluggepäck Und dieses Mal gibt’s leider keinen heissen Sex Cause all she wants from you are those alimony cheques The bitch is back...

BUOY 52 Where will I go When my feet stop walking Where will I be When my tongue stops talking What will I feel When my heart stops beating for you Look for me Down below buoy 52 What will I sing When my mind stops thinking Where will I sleep When my eyes stop blinking What will remain When all the lies I told turn true You’ll find me buried Down below buoy 52 embraced by the cold caressed by the waves washed clean by the sea there’s no better grave What will I dream When all the words are spoken Where will I rest When all my bones are broken What will I find At the bottom of the watery blue You’ll be with me Down below buoy 52

AFTER BOND (thank you, Mr. Weldon Kees.) The dogs stop barking when Bond is gone. The mirror from Russia, stuck on a wall, reflects nothing at all... Bond alone provides the image James Bond-ohnian. Th walls and curtains, the shelves, the settee... The books he read. The drinks he drank, yeah, we all know the story. The stories of Bond. Who will be drinking, or gambling, or lying in bed With a woman named Morse. Code, of course. And before the night is over she’ll be dead. REFRAIN Send me to Jamaica, send me to Rangoon Take me back to Skyfall, beam me to the moon Dodge a bomb in Cuba, fall in love in Rome Bond is on a mission & he won’t be coming home. All day the phone rings. It could be Bond Calling. Saying „Yes, this is I. Who’s there?“ But there’s no-one here. And no-one cares ’bout the world it’s self-destructing, while Bond is gone. „You must have followed me from Aston Place“ whispers Bond, unhinged Afraid and drunk, while at the Algonquin the Spectre plays his cards. No-one cares about the many worlds around us, unsaved, unsavoury, Incurably insane, when James Bond’s not there.

DIE KOPIE Die Kopie (die Kopie) Das bin ich, die Kopie Die Kopie (die Kopie), hey – Ich bin die Kopie. Jeder will dir an den Kragen: Stechen, Schießen, Würgen, Schlagen Gift im Whisky, Faust im Magen – Nur nichts denken, nur nichts fragen, Überall herrscht transglobale Hysterie, okay? Ohren auf: Mich kriegt ihr nie ich bin Kopie Kopie Kopie, ha! (Die Ko-ko-ko-kopie.) Die Kopie (die Kopie) Das bin ich, die Kopie Die Kopie (die Kopie) Mich erwischt ihr nie. Die Kopie (die Kopie) Das bin ich, die Kopie Die Kopie (die Kopie), hey – Ich bin die Kopie. Das Original ist abserviert Heut’ regiert die klonversierte Industrie, die Reich und reich und reicher wird mit der Kopie! Made in China, Big in Japan Streng vom BöFei undsoweiter observiert, hey! Passt mal auf: Mich kriegt ihr nie ich bin Kopie Kopie Kopie, ha! (Die Ko-ko-ko-kopie.) Die Kopie (die Kopie) Das bin ich, die Kopie Die Kopie (die Kopie) Mich erwischt ihr nie.

MANY KINDS OF PRAYERS They tell me there’s two kinds of prayers One for the fat, and one for the lean And then there’s a third kind of prayer It found me somewhere inbetween I was tired of searchin’, stuck in a red chair Covered in grime, I had grease in my hair Been tryin’ to get up, for who knows how long My faith in believin’ was gone Then He came to me out of nowhere they call it "On fire with god." I went and did good with a passion Protected and boundlessly loved Take care, take care For His grace will pass But I took no care I was young so young so young so young Now I’m searching for peace in yoga No longer do I pray Now I’m searching for peace in yoga No longer do I pray