It's often in the morning
My hands are shaking
My face
It doesn't belong to me
Water! -- comes nearly like a shock to me
I can't take it quietly

Self-portrait with hangover

What do I have?
What don't I have?
What did I say?
I don't remember!
I did all I could
To settle the world's doubts
Till no drop of certainty
Was leftover
Not that in my memory
I feel a gap
Until I notice
That there is a yawning void
Between my nightly exercitations
And my present agony

Self-portrait with hangover
At some stage I was ready for astonishment
The great fuel
For the rotation around one's own axis
I turned round and round and round
The reeling center of this incident
In which I had just ended up here
In a kind of drunken universe
That irresponsibly empty and senseless
Took hold of me in phases
Long-known grinning repetitions
So not all of this was my fault
If in this cothere still could be
Guilt -- indeed!

Self-portrait with hangover

All the stars were out of the way
They were in the sky
Like pinpricks
The night lighted by a moon
That seems to be covered by food mold

Self-portrait with hangover

What I see in the morning has little to do with me
I'm decorated with a black line on my lips
And that says a lot
Fusel oil, aldehydes, residual alcohol
Maybe I should call the Chinese doctor from across
Perhaps he should leech my liver or else...
I am covered by a highly fragile nerve fabric
In a highly fragile and even transparent nerve fabric
Doris Day!
Self-portrait with hangover

Astronomy has discovered the schnapps in space
Someone he or she had hidden it behind intergalactic clouds
Probably marked for safety by a creative hand
So the space cleaning lady will not take delight in it
Sometime the clouds will breakup for me
And the beautiful women waiting behind
Feed me with truthful truffles
Finally water me with the essence
Of their heavenly appearance
Until everything glows ruby red around me

I commit incest with the stars!
I commit incest with the stars!
Life on other planets is difficult!