Zerzaust in Kleidern und Gebärden
Blicke ziehen Runden mit Begehren
Auf Tafelrunden liegen Sklaven
Als Frühgeburten gar gekocht

Unter uns in kalten Kellern
Warten Weiber auf Geburten
Verkrampfte Schreie speien Kinder
Starke Männer werden trunken
Wenn sie kaltes Grauen küsst
Verstumpfte Glieder werden weinen
Weil mit Hoffnung nichts verdient

Ein kränklich armes müdes Volk
Verschliesst die Ohren hören Schmerzen
Vor tiefem Abgrund stehen Richter
Das Ich I'm Ich ist kein Idol

I'm Nebenzimmer blühen Hirne
Die sich selber Recht genannt
Aus dem Fenster stiert ein Schädel
Der den Weisen stumm erzählt

Von tiefster Seele steigen Klagen
Weil die Herrschaft uns verdreht
An kahlen Felden strömen Säfte
Die von Tieren ausgepresst

Fleischkollonnen stehen Schlange
Vor den Toren vieler Ahnen
Aus den Mäulern kreischen Stimmen
Die mit Hass sind aufgefüllt

Von Seuchenadern tropfen Gifte
Tranken unsre neue Bibel
Verdorrte Hände schufen Nerven
Das Ich I'm Ich ist angezapft

Ich streite einsam mich
Mit dieser oberflächen Welt
Gutes sei ein löblich Brot
Von dem ich zehre bis zum Tod


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Das Ich Im Ich Lyrics as written by S Ackermann B Kramm

Lyrics © KLETTER ENTERTAINMENT INC

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