In every provincial town, there are a few pubs
That are named something like "German", "Homeland" or "Eagle"
At their counters sit the same sons of bitches everywhere
They demand something like a referendum at the federal level
You have to be a German if you go to these pubs
And always emphasize that the Germans are having a shitty time
They would be overrun because refugees are coming
Who are all criminals and don't behave
It would be so terrible because grandma's pension
Now allegedly falls into the hands of some Roma
And due to anti-native family politics
They wish for Eva Herman or even Hitler back
Between schnapps and beer, hatred is stirred
Which will definitely explode with a bang
Because yesterday they were just pub slogans
But today they have explosives and sharp pistols

And Günter Grass writes a new poem
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And MaKss Damage scores a hit
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And from the beyond, Jürgen Möllemann laughs
And the Holger Apfel doesn't fall far from the tree
And Max Mustermann sets a refugee home on fire
Germany, Germany you industrious land

In every city, there are a few miserable Nazis
Who try to make life difficult for their opponents
I know the feeling when constantly at the door
Comrades are waiting for you and terrorizing you
I still remember today, the clinking of the windows
Mixed with shrill screams, tore me from my dreams
I was sure that they were in the apartment this time
Climbed out the window to escape over the balcony
In mortal fear, I sat on the gable
They chased and booted the Greeks
They had waited at the door, those pigs
And when the door opened, it hailed stones
They accepted our death
Only by a miracle did the boys get out of there again
But next time it could turn out differently
I decided to move to another city

And Günter Grass writes a new poem
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And MaKss Damage scores a hit
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And from the beyond, Jürgen Möllemann laughs
And the Holger Apfel doesn't fall far from the tree
And Max Mustermann sets a refugee home on fire
Germany, Germany you industrious land

Everyone knows someone who rambles about conspiracy
And he knows who controls the media and stock exchanges
It's easy for him to sort the world into good and evil
And he always knows a simple solution to the problem
Conspiracy theories include fantasies of annihilation
They can say what they want, they are simply anti-Semites
All the pseudo-social critics
The Elsässer, KenFM world improvers
Nothing but agitators in German tradition
They don't deny the Holocaust, they reinterpret it
Today's Nazis are peace-loving
And they are very concerned about Palestine
They love animals, but they want to lynch child molesters
And they know that the bosses of the world sit in the back room
You can't and shouldn't talk to these people anymore
It should only be about stopping them

And Günter Grass writes a new poem
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And MaKss Damage scores a hit
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And from the beyond, Jürgen Möllemann laughs
And the Holger Apfel doesn't fall far from the tree
And Max Mustermann sets a refugee home on fire
Germany, Germany you industrious land

And Günter Grass writes a new poem
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And MaKss Damage writes a diss
And Beate Zschäpe listens to U2
And from the beyond, Jürgen Möllemann laughs
And the Holger Apfel doesn't fall far from the tree
And Max Mustermann sets a refugee home on fire
Germany, Germany you industrious land

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