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