Essen band Fokker were mainly active in the early eighties, often talked about but rarely heard.
Lyrics
There is a lake to the left of us,
Silent mountains to the right,
Our black train travels deep,
Into the Carpathian night.
Our travelling companions wear uniforms,
Monocles and waxed moustaches.
They read periodicals and newspapers,
As we slowly climb the passes.
We’re in Mitteleuropa.
Our minds are full of the mythologies,
Of the Hapsburg an Ottoman empires.
Far in front of us the engineer shovels coal,
Into the famished fire.
From station to station we travel,
We meet Ralf Hutter and Florian Schneider.
We take our meals at midnight,
Amongst other misplaced diners.
We’re in Mitteleuropa.
At the borders our passports are checked,
By soldiers cold but polite.
They ask us questions about our destinations,
Then disappear into the night.
We speak with a man who says he’s a student,
Though he seems to old for academia,
We discuss ideas controversial and strange,
As we enter the heart of Bohemia.
Into the heart of Bohemia.
Into the heart of bohemia.
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