We're Kraftklub and you're not. Aha. Given this, you may all consider yourselves fucked up
...All editors are getting pale-faced
They wanted to write about us, but they don't understand us.
It's occurring to me we're like the Beatels in the 1960s
Our music is thrilling, but your parents forbid it to you
They're glued to their desks in the editorial department,
Looking for any act they could compare it with
But tough luck! What we're doing never existed before
Models, haha, (are something) we don't have.
I break the newspaper open,
(And I see) pictures of me again
I tear out the page,
I need some toilet paper
And everyone who writes
Always has the same questions
You won't publish what we wrote because a couple of times we said 'shit' too often?
We're travelling by funeral car
Stage diving, boozing, jumping,
Carrying unconscious women apart
I don't talk while sleeping, but fall asleep while talking to you
You want a quote while I want Scarlett Johansson.
But screw it, just write.
Criticism is okay too, but think about that:
We know where your car is.
I break the newspaper open,
(And I see) pictures of me again
I tear out the page,
I need some toilet paper
You can all consider yourselves fucked up, consider yourselves fucked up, consider yourselves fucked up.
You can all consider yourselves fucked up, consider yourselves fucked up, consider yourselves fucked up.