Roads Of Germany

I'm driving on the road that Hitler built

I'm driving on the road that Hitler built

This is the place where history stopped to shit

And I'm driving on the road that Hitler built

I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next

There's more holes in Joe's than Adolf's

But what would you expect

I wonder what the Germans did

To fall from history's nest

And I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next

On the roads of Germany

On the roads of Germany

These are the roads of the 20th century

And there's blood and steel and leather

Mixed into that concrete

When you're riding on the roads of high Germany

I'm cruising on Konrad's Autobahn

Konrad's got a Beetle and Ludwig a Trabant

And Willy's got a Merc and Erich's got a tank

But that road only took me to a concrete dead end trap

We're driving on the road that never ends

All roads lead to exit signs and then they start again

And Helmut's building on the wheel of history as it spins

And history never ends 'cos it's too busy beginning

On the roads of Germany

On the roads of Germany

These are the roads of the 20th century

And there's blood and steel and leather

Mixed into that concrete

When you're riding on the roads of high Germany

And I'm walking in a Black Forest lane

And I step into the trees for to get some leafy shade

And I fall asleep in some dappled sunlit glade

And I dream and in my dream I am lost and afraid

And it grows dark, it grows damp and I shiver and I'm cold

And deep inside the forest something obscenely old

Stirs and shakes and comes awake and in it's putrid pit

It belches and it squirms in its own dirt and filth

And slithers on it's stinking slime while everything holds its breath

And its slow thighs, blank eyes pitiless as the past

Reborn from its fitful sleep, its hour come again at last

Slouches towards its own Jerusalem to be re-cast

And in my horror I recognise myself in it as it passes

Familiar and repulsive and as old as mortal man

This philosophy of brutality, ignorance and hate

Buried deep in everyone waiting to escape

And you must kill it before it kills you and everything in its wake

And I take my knife and I kill it, and it screams and then I wake

And I'm terrified and horrified and in this mortal state

I stagger toward the curbside of the 4 lane motorway

"Drive" I say and we drive and soon I stop shaking

But I can't stop thinking 'bout these dreams and revelations

Except it's not a dream it's real and it's of our own making

And it's not just Germany it's everywhere and the whole world is a-quaking

As we turn onto this road we all seem to be taking

And you can't help thinking these things on the roads of Germany