New Times

New Times. New Times. New Times Good morning. Good morning. Good morning I'm the guard. At one time This was rather pleasant The poets they still had to muse Over the classicism of clean shoes But who today still knows a button stick Well, that's the new times That's the new times That's the new times The girls would lie down before us First one went dancing, then behind the bushes Today you have to run through twenty places Get drunk on saccharin and methyl And then you still don't get them that far Well, that's the new times That's the new times That's the new times Now take it easy there in the early morning Who arrives but the brethren from the press If somewhere there lies a cadaver Or something is foul in the state You can be sure that a writer is not far behind With his Excellency I only say: Hands off the literature The laurel wreath one gets today Second hand so to speak From the old Empire's stories Sold underhand at the Alexanderplatz With all the wigs and costumes Twitching from the shoulder one is informed Well, that's the new times That's the new times That's the new times New times. New times. New times