Thank god you are lucky, you
that is born in a democracy.
Here you get to work, here you get a pay
here you are free.
It is the best of all worlds
and here no one is opressed.
But it doesn't match reality and not with what you see.

There is something odd about freedom,
something odd about freedom
When you and the comrades demand it
it's no longer there for you

It is said that you are free
to take any job you want
But for he who is moved to a barrack
the freedom quite isn't enough
It is said that reedom, to work,
is an obvious right
But when you stand with the unemployed
Where is then your freedom of choice?

There is something odd about freedom,
something odd about freedom
When you and the comrades demand it
it's no longer there for you

It is said that you get enough
pay for your assiduous grind
But when you've sold your labor
you still don't have enough
And when you demand more
freedom becomes an illusion
"There is no money to spare you
, such an insignificant person"

It is said that you still have freedom
to develop your personality
To create your own happiness
and utilize your drive
You're fed with a dim dream
of riches and power
But you're forced to escape to a world that you'll never reach
of love, luxury and pride

There is something odd about freedom,
something odd about freedom
When you and the comrades demand it
it's no longer there for you

No, the tiny freedom you have
Your class had to struggle for
But in this system you can't push it
more than the bourgeois want
Because the dictatorship of the bourgeois
Is the real freedom here
Where the working class is humiliated
and oppressed by profit greed