Текст песни Otto Dix - Clay

Red clay smeared hands;
In agony Creator creates a masterpiece.
And whispered in his ear: "Throw the flour,
Create you only bring bitterness! "

"Express Yourself!" - Others have said, - "Do not listen!
You will be proud of the creation of his! "
And in a handful of earth Creator breathed the soul.
"How did you become? Well, we'll see!"

Dirt - the essence of the earth!
Dirt - are yours!
Dirt red ...
Dirt - it's me!

- Cruel, vanity, folly;
The pursuit of profit, debauchery sweaty bodies;
Indolence of the soul, the senses and the mind avarice;
So if you I wanted to see?

- I am a piece of clay, I'm not perfect!
To me now too late to change anything!
But whose likeness I? Whose sins?
On the mirror is stupid, my father, blame !?