.Manchmal mitten in der Nacht
Ruft uns der grimmig' Meister wach
I'm toten Gang zu mahlen
Wortlos, willenlos ohne es zu hinterfragen.
Das Wasser schieÃt in den Mühlgraben ein.
Keiner spricht ein Wort. (Kein Wort)
Ãchzend beginnt sich das Rad zu drehen,
Dann fort un.
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