Teksty: Die Toten Hosen. The Fly.

There's a fly buzzing round inside my head
and it can't find its way out.
Crawling here and there not getting anywhere,
I can feel it panicking now.

As it follows a bundle of nerve fibres
down the temporal lobe to my spinal cord.
Backs up to the pituitary gland,
flees to the forebrain, turns again...

I can feel each footstep like a punch,
my eyes explode with pain.
As it makes its way up my optic track
then pauses and turns again...


It probes my hypotalamus,
blunders round my cranium.
From the tectum to the tegmentum
stretches its wings, then turns again...

Until it reaches the control centre,
that tells me that I'm me.
It burrows into my synapses,
rests a while and then it starts to feed...