Sonntags abend´s in Berlin

On Sunday nights in Berlin, I see
the sun setting in the west.
The 'Free West', that's what it should be -
all lies, all just a facade!
On Sunday nights in Berlin, I stay by the wall then stand. See the cold wall there - covered in graffiti, disgust overwhelms me! And I wonder, must it be like this - is powerlessness stronger than the stone?

On Sunday nights in Berlin, I let my thoughts drift eastward. I think that over there lives my own brother, whose life is worth just as much. On Sunday nights in Berlin, on Sunday nights in Berlin, when the Turks then roam through Kreuzberg, when the Turks then roam through Kreuzberg, cold rage grips me, fear in the night - my people, what have they done to you?! But no one sees, is it meant to be like this - am I all alone with my worries?

On Sunday nights in Berlin, on Sunday nights in Berlin, I believe that anarchists rule us, anarchists rule us here. As I look around here, in this city, I soon grow tired of everything! On Sunday nights in Berlin, on Sunday nights in Berlin, I stay by the Brandenburg Gate, by the Brandenburg Gate I stand. You've probably seen better times before, now you see Berlin sinking again. But it must not be, because I don't want it - but my voice is so quiet!

On Sunday nights in Berlin, you should stand for the whole of Germany. Our homeland is broken like this city, which has no future like this!