Death seems a long way from here
I fear we drink tea in the evening
As if all is, as it was before,
Footsteps in the snow.
I used to drink whiskey at noon.
in the morning, at night.
We drink and we drink until blotto
Dig a grave in the air, that’s me, 
Don't lie so-close, remember
We are rats in a trap
A man lives in a house
upstairs, downstairs, the shitter.
He who plays with the snakes
He who writes squiddy massages
He who writes in Germany or Argentina,
or any other Nazi-hideout,
when it gets dark,
your golden, blue eyes, will contain certain genes.
This man he steps in front
of a bus and the stars sparkle
and the bus stops,
he whistles for his mates, carries on,
he whistles for his Jews, carries on
to dig a grave in the earth
he orders us to dance on the grave:
his version of romance.
Early black night
we drink us into sobriety
we drink us in the morning
and we drink us at noon
we drink you in the evening
we drink and we drink
This is man’s work
This slaughter of the innocents
We dig a grave in the air, don't lie close
Oh! No! We don’t associate with ghosts.
My grandfather calls from deep in the ground
He grabs his tommy gun, shoots, misses,  
He swings around, his eyes are blue
My grandmother digs for victory
With rusty spades
the others continue to dance
Grandfathers should remain silent in their graves
But not if you’ve defeated the Kaiser, the NSDAP,
Then you can smile, Jack smiles.
Germany likes to commit suicide every couple of generations
Musicians stroke their violins darker then rise into the air as smoke
Germany’s grave is in the sea, the north sea.
Death is the master in Germany his eye is blue
He expects to hit you with a leaden bullet, to hit you exactly,
But he misses and lived in the Federal Republic of Germany
De-Nazified, my arse.
He master races males to graves in the air
Like Alternative für Deutschland,, like the future belongs to me.