Two thousand degrees, beads of sweat on my forehead
The air circulates many meters above the ground
A dried out carcass hangs firmly on the fence
Goose bumps, it means something’s going to happen
“Millimeter precision”, it said in the sub-heading
It’s a hundred years, since I trusted the press
It was a picture taken by the KGB, which was manipulated
I tell you, that it wasn’t me. It was not me
You believe you can see things so clearly
I’m not saying a word, until I get a lawyer
A second feels like a minute in here
A minute like an hour, an hour like a day
And you think you see things so clearly
I’m not saying a word, until I get a lawyer