For Martin Kippenberger

kippenberger

That which distorts you only makes you stronger

It’s a one man’s world
needy of support
who we have bought
to the table today
I have nothing against depressions
as long as they don’t become the fashion
A birch forest of pills
Feet, skulls, bones, crosses
Not knowing why
But knowing what for
(Not having to sleep at home)
Down with inflation
Underwear, balloons
Likable
Communist
Woman
Yellow
Black
Red
Green
Gray
With the best will in the world
it’s still a swastika
shame in a corner
modern house of believing or not
Profit peaks with economic values
Rust capri and dry rolled oats
Paint for me
Six feet two inches high
Corresponding to his own height
Each morning and afternoon
Abandoned just before reaching
One of you
cast aluminum, iron plate
suspender levis/trousers
Red wine under deeps speed
Put your eye in your mouth
We don’t have problems
with people who look exactly like us
they get our pain
On your birthday we say
Martin we love you
You have succeeded
Look at you
Extra! Extra!
Read all about it
Martin Kippenberger retrospective!
R-O-W-D-I-E
That’s how we spell rowdie
Let’s get rowdie
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about moving
Gotta move on
Gotta move on
I put my money in pork rinds
I’m a fucking loser
I’m in the fucking hole
(Next time buy Kippenberger!)
One day I’m going to grow up
To be a ballerina dancer
I don’t mind
Martin Kippenberger
is my man
if he can’t do it
Nobody can
R-O-W-D-I-E
That’s the way we spell rowdie
Let it be
Let if be
Drums wood torquise light
Martin Kippenberger
says hello to you
The happy ending
(Kafka’s)
Hello kids
don’t try this at home.

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