An accusation stands in the room,
how does one get it out again?
How did it get in here? We are surprised
It makes itself at home and presses us against the wall
It's unpleasant and we have our doubts about it,
but it struggles forcefully with all its might
A suspicion is in this room,
How do can we get it out again?
It laughs meanly and primitively, as if it's getting in through our ears to our hearts.
How can we get this accusation out? Who actually proposed it?
Was it fortuity or proposition or did it come by itself?
May one ask this, or is it going too far?
Certainly it lied, but now it's here:
An accusation is in the room.
It robs us of our breath, we struggle for air,
Relentlessly it grabs hold of our throats
An allegation is in the room,
who will believe it? I don't believe them.
I must vomit in front of them, because I feel sick.
It's the possibility that meets me
An allegation is in the room,
It came from the dark, now it's in the light.
We stand there and are splattered with filth
This slander, this illusion, this lie here in the room.
They destory us all, step by step.
It's a poison for you, it's a poison for me.
It's a poison.