Lyrics Megalomaniac - KMFDM

Megalomaniac (original)

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Kein mitleid für die mehrheit
Kein mitleid für die mehrheit
Nihilistic mystics
Apostolic Alcoholics
Messianic Manics
Cataclysmic and Prolific
In the age of super-boredom
Hype and mediocrity
Celebrate relentlessness
Menace to society
This is counter-culture from the underground
Eternal revolution this is our sound
KMFDM better than the best
Megalomaniacal and harder than the rest
Refuse is our inspiration
Terrorism our trade
Sabotage and piracy
Chaos our mental state
Mesmerizing festering
Intended for the faint of heart
Cultish and Anthemic
Until death us do part
This is counter-culture from the underground
Eternal revolution this is our sound
KMFDM better than the best
Megalomaniacal and harder than the rest
Wenn der untergrund bebt ist die ordnung erschüttert
Der verrat an der seele macht leben ungesund
Mit unschlagbaren reimen werden wir uns vertreiben
Die zeit der langen weile bis zum grossen bums
Like a fiendish tropic virus
Spitting bile at all you whores
Razor-sharp tongue-in-cheek
Poking in your open sores
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
The ultimate disgrace
Wrapped up as a gift of god
Exploding in your face
This is counter-culture from the underground
Eternal revolution this is our sound
KMFDM better than the best
Megalomaniacal and harder than the rest
Refuse is our inspiration
Terrorism our trade
Sabotage and piracy
Chaos our mental state
In the age of super-boredom
Hype and mediocrity
Celebrate relentlessness
Menace to society
This is counter-culture from the underground
Eternal revolution this is our sound
KMFDM better than the best
Megalomaniacal and harder than the rest
Megalomaniacal
Megalomaniacal
Megalomaniacal
Better than the best and harder than the rest

Megalomaniac (translation)

The marvels of this earth are laid at your feet,
Happiness eludes the purse—longing stands unscaled.
Insatiable riddles beckon like the moon across a midnight fen.
No pity for the multitude’s vast tide,
No mercy to the swelling mass inside.
Mystics bred on void, nihil’s hushed confessor,
Apostolic drinkers—prophets glass in hand,
Messiahs gripped by fever, vision-maddened,
Prolific storms, cataclysms sown by reckless hand.
In the epoch where ennui silts the mind,
Where froth and dullness crowd the vacant stage,
Exult in the unmoving, pitiless as stone,
A threat that stalks the city’s aching bone.
This is a counter-culture, roots below the street,
Our sound—a revolution, time without defeat.
KMFDM: surpassing even the superlative’s breath,
Me, megalomaniac—unyielding, steel against the rest.
Refuse becomes our muse, decrepit and sublime,
Terror is our practice, our signature in grime.
Sabotage and piracy—a shadow’s sovereign creed,
Chaos is the compass by which thought is freed.
Enthralling rot that blossoms in the flesh,
Meant for hearts too tender for this mesh.
A cultic hymn’s insurgence, banners torn and bright,
Until the hour when death severs us from night.
This is a counter-culture, roots below the street,
Our sound—a revolution, time without defeat.
KMFDM: surpassing even the superlative’s breath,
Me, megalomaniac—unyielding, steel against the rest.
When earth’s foundation shudders, all order cracks and falls,
Soul’s betrayal poisons life—its venom seeps through walls.
With rhymes invincible, I banish boredom’s reign,
Staving off the long gray hours till the world’s last refrain.
Like some fiendish tropic virus, sinuous and sly,
I spit my gall at you—daughters of the lie.
A razor tongue, my jest—quicksilver, keen—
Pressing on wounds you wear, unhealed, unseen.
A wolf beneath the lambskin, hunger undisguised,
Final disgrace—dignity capsized.
Swaddled as a god’s own offering,
Exploding in your vision, blinding, suffering.
This is a counter-culture, roots below the street,
Our sound—a revolution, time without defeat.
KMFDM: surpassing even the superlative’s breath,
Me, megalomaniac—unyielding, steel against the rest.
Refuse becomes our muse, decrepit and sublime,
Terror is our practice, our signature in grime.
Sabotage and piracy—a shadow’s sovereign creed,
Chaos is the compass by which thought is freed.
In the epoch where ennui silts the mind,
Where froth and dullness crowd the vacant stage,
Exult in the unmoving, pitiless as stone,
A threat that stalks the city’s aching bone.
This is a counter-culture, roots below the street,
Our sound—a revolution, time without defeat.
KMFDM: surpassing even the superlative’s breath,
Me, megalomaniac—unyielding, steel against the rest.
Megalomaniac—
Megalomaniac—
Megalomaniac—
Greater than the greatest, harder than the hard.