words and music by Michael Seibt
When I was young you taught me the pain
I learned that a lot of things were in vain
When I was a young man you showed me the way
But whatever happened there was no doubt to stay
Stay in the city that doesn’t exist
Wherever I am I’m missing your flair
The smell of baking-powder everywhere in the air
I know the malls in London, Paris and Rome
Amsterdam, Copenhagen, but I wanna get back home
Home to the city, that doesn’t exist
The forest so near and the fields always green
The rain and the mist can’t conceal what I see
You are the place, where I will spend my life
The ground of my roots and sometimes my pride
Although they say, you doesn’t exist
They say you are the capital of the province
But I don’t care: They don’t know any inch
Never sat near the lake watching the sun rise
Never stood on the fortress when the autumn wind cried
Let them believe in their trash – I know you exist
Outro:
It’s good that they can’t find you in the rain and the mist
Homesick to you - they cannot know how it is
I know, it is good, and it’s good as it is
You are the city, that really exists
You are the city, that really exists
You are the city, ---------- that really exists
Ending: |: (Harp) :|