His ass plows the ground and his nose bevels the sky.
Owns the world even though he just got his name.
Hair slicked back, smoking a cigar,
his briefcase half-full of European money.
He is looking at the dark corner of his home
trying to remember his name he forgot.
Introduce me to myself.
Introduce me to myself.
In the year dot I thought
this place was better, but now everything is going south.
We all suffer here so damn much.
Everyone's greed keeps the beast sustained.
He drives away in his car, and the devil's head
on the hood is his guiding star.
The bird of death, exhausted of the trip,
watches the village from the top of a spruce.
It carefully opens up its voice,
as the frost is already embracing the village.
Fathers from hell scream from below ground:
"Why are you reaching for the stars?"
In the year dot I thought...
In the year dot I thought...
In the year dot I thought
this place was better, but now everything is going south.
We all suffer here so damn much.
Everyone keeps nourishing death in their homes.