Stachel-Lyrik

Pillemann

There once was a guy who went to war.
He liked to win and to talk no more.
His wrong-headed aim he felt not far:
He wanted to be a tsar.

Refrain:
Soon may the Pillemann come,
he spits around with his dirty gun.
Stay tight when you hear the drum
fight back the murderous run.

This guy sent the rookies at his hand.
„Maneuver“, he said, „in a friendly land“.
They broke ev'ry border, crushed the dike
and felt the counterstrike.

He called the opponents Nazis and gay,
His impotent anger led him astray.
The public opinion came under a ban
for his prevarication plan.

He knew his dreams were built on sand
and threw some bombs on a nuclear plant.
Aside the conscience, he gave signals
not to care for hospitals.

The artillery he put in place,
demanded right to shoot into civil face.
gave no time at all for victims to flee
no medevac guarantee.

How big is his lack of confidence?
How tiny his willy and testicles? Hence:
Stand up for those people in despair
and chant it ev'rywhere.