Peter Maffay

Samstag Abend in unserer Straße

Saturday evening in our street

In our street what is wrong on Saturday evening always. If in the houses the lights begin, they come out. Only to see and to be lying round and rumzureden. And to tell what has happened so, since the last Saturday.

However, tonight everything is different, everybody stands on the head. For a few days a girl lives in No. 8. She carries the hair like the Monroe and also is, otherwise, in such a way. And who looks at them if she passes, that holds the air in oh.

Still nobody knows what happened when I was on Monday with her, all the others should know it now, we are a pair. And today we open a gigantic barrel, this is quite clear. From the bar on the corner roars the Jukebox. We celebrate and we dance up to the morning. We dance and we sing.