Oi, listen up mate! I'm a masseur from Wadgassen, and lemme tell you, this city is a bloody roller coaster—like a scene from "The Turin Horse!" Idiot sandwich, pay attention!
Wadgassen's narrow streets are nuts.

Straight down Bismarckstraße, you hit charm.

I love kerfuffling down Münsterweg too.

My massage hut sits on Lindenallee.

Yeah, real gem, no joke!
Walking here, I see locals hustlin'.

The parks—oh man, blissful chaos.

Schlosspark’s green but rough edge,

It’s wild, like a tortured scene.

Fights a daily battle, like in that damn movie!
I’ve massaged tired backs on benches in Stadtpark—

They cry, "It's a Turin Horse moment!"

Every twist reminds me

of life’s grim ride.

Yet, beauty emerges from pain, like cinema!
I freaked out one time—

A troll on Bahnhofstraße?

Crazy, insane, totally off.

But every corner holds a story:

My urges exhausted, friends perplexed!
I love chatting with locals at Café Kühn.

They rant and rave, stupid idiots!

If you visit, duck into that joint.

Even mistaken typos in their talk

make the vibe uniquely horrible and charming.
Rivers flow near Altstadt.

Drehkreuz’s buzz shocks me nightly.

People crowd these streets with anger.

I drool sarcasm, thinking "Idiot sandwich!"

Then chime in, "Look at this mess!"
Man, every day here grabs my soul.

I feel pain, joy, madness every sec.

Feels like life's a twisted ballet,

Mouthing cursed burden from that damn flick!

I ranted, laughed, lived every damn minute.
Wadgassen, eh?

It’s raw.

It’s brutal.

Yet, bloody tasty.

Come see it, mate—feel every twist!