Harbor Cafe

The evening sun falls over streets and squares,
the golden sun sinks into the city.
And people disappear into their homes, tired,
they've had another day.
The neon signs wink through the windows,
a light drizzle falls on the street.
The city seems dead, yet music can be heard coming from a door that is still wide open.

Chorus:
There in that little café by the harbor,
people are equal and content.
There in that little café by the harbor,
your money or who you are no longer matters.

The bar is made of copper, yet there is no runner,
the soccer club hangs on the wall.
The jukebox makes more noise than the jukebox,
a beer is not expensive there.
A person is a person there, rich or poor, it's warm there,
no monsieur or madam, but W.C.
But the glass is rinsed in the clearest water,
yes, it's a very good cafe there.

Chorus:
There in that little café by the harbor,
there people are equal and content.
There in that little café by the harbor,
there your money or who you are no longer matters.

The world's problems are solved forever between two glasses of beer.
Your bill is written on the edge of a beer mat, or you're in debt.
But the only thing you can get toLiveData:80abaa367d934f0abf33c86a3af2f76b