words and music by Michael Seibt When I was young you taught me the pain I learned that a lot of things were in vain When I was a young man you showed me the way But whatever happened there was no doubt to stay Stay in the city that doesn’t exist Wherever I am I’m missing your flair The smell of baking-powder everywhere in the air I know the malls in London, Paris and Rome Amsterdam, Copenhagen, but I wanna get back home Home to the city, that doesn’t exist The forest so near and the fields always green The rain and the mist can’t conceal what I see You are the place, where I will spend my life The ground of my roots and sometimes my pride Although they say, you doesn’t exist They say you are the capital of the province But I don’t care: They don’t know any inch Never sat near the lake watching the sun rise Never stood on the fortress when the autumn wind cried Let them believe in their trash – I know you exist Outro: It’s good that they can’t find you in the rain and the mist Homesick to you - they cannot know how it is I know, it is good, and it’s good as it is You are the city, that really exists You are the city, that really exists You are the city, ---------- that really exists Ending: |: (Harp) :|