The Man Who Signs The House Disposal Deeds

– Karsten Fechner

I was young and father told me:
You shall plough the whole day through
On the fields, my son – but I just didn’t care
(about his words)
My dear mother, yeah, she told me
(think she offered same to me)
But I said: Mum, you know
I do not like fresh air!

For I like pencils, rubber, paper
And the smell of ink and dust
I like files and scripts and stamps
The whole day through
The assessments and permissions
Applications and replies
Make my heart beats fast, believe me
‚Cause it’s true

I’m a secretary
In a civil agency
Sell your house, but only when I do agree
I’m the safest ferry
In the bureacratic sea
I’m the man who signs the house disposal deeds

When the morning sun is rising
I stand up and make my way
To the office where I’m unlocking my door
I sit down, open the drawer
Get my stamp out of my desk
And work until the paper covers the whole floor

I come home at half past six
My wife is waiting then for me
Saying: Hello, darling. Tell me, how are you?
And I say: Thank you, my dear. This day
Was a big variety, because
The stamping-ink of today wasn’t blue

When it’s late then I do kiss her
After this I go to bed
And I’m putting out the bedside-table lamp
Late at night night I sometimes wonder
That my wife doesn’t sleep yet
And ‚bout my neighbour
Making sounds just like a stamp

She is solitary
In her lonely rooms but she
Lives a secret life her husband doesn’t see
Yes she’s always happy
When the neighbour comes for tea
‚Cause he’s no man who just signs house disposal deeds

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