| If you feel down and you cry bitter tears
|
| And your lamentations meet nobody’s ears
|
| You’re lost and you’re lonely out there in the cold
|
| Although you’re still young you feel a hundred years old
|
| So join our parade
|
| We’re on our crusade
|
| We’re shining in splendor
|
| Through ages of war
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| And ages of bore
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| We’ve been the defenders
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — do offer a mass
|
| Of celebrating
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — the upper class
|
| Of merrymaking
|
| We’ve armies of soldiers and special squads
|
| To end all the boredom we’ve been sent by the gods
|
| Our weapon’s our music and the words that we sing
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| Playin' our songs loud will turn winter to spring
|
| We’re fighting with power
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| The power is ours
|
| We’ll lead to high spirits
|
| Our enemies flee
|
| Or fall to their knees
|
| And now let us hear it:
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — do offer a mass
|
| Of celebrating
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — the upper class
|
| Of merrymaking
|
| We know that life ain’t always fun
|
| That’s why we’re here, 'cause the job’s not been done
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — do offer a mass
|
| Of celebrating
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| The bringers of Blöedsinn
|
| We — the upper class
|
| Of merrymaking
|
| We — the kickers of ass
|
| (The bringers of Blöedsinn)
|
| We — run at full blast
|
| (The bringers of Blöedsinn)
|
| The blowers of brass
|
| (The bringers of Blöedsinn)
|
| We — the smokers of grass
|
| We bring you the Blöedsinn! |