Am Black-Jack-Tisch zieht es einen immer tiefer hinein: Paroli, noch eine Karte, noch ein Einsatz – und niemand fragt, was morgen kommt.
Der Song zu Kapitel 8 „Black Jack“: man fällt und fällt, ins dunkle Nirgendwo.
aus dem Roman „Der Armentisch“
I bet it, Paroli wins.
Everyone shouts “Again!” – we do it.
The card turns and money lies there.
No one asks what tomorrow brings.
Black hole, black hole,
you fall and fall.
Black hole, black hole,
the dark nowhere.
Three thousand two hundred, we don’t stop.
Everyone says go on, we do it.
The ball rolls, the heartbeat’s loud.
No one sees what is missing.
Black hole, black hole,
you fall and fall.
Black hole, black hole,
the dark nowhere.
We stand up and say nothing.
The poor man’s table waits for us.
Empty pockets, looking for nothing,
no one leaves, no one stays.
Black hole, black hole,
you fall and fall.
Black hole, black hole,
the dark nowhere.