It’s not a problem
It’s not a problem for you
It’s not a problem
It’s not a problem for us
To bow our heads
To betray our bro’s
To be unable to behave like heroes
When the house is on fire we just shut our mouths
And watch the glorious ends of those who are tough
But if you kiss me Kinski and hold me out of frailty
I know I could see my soul’s misery and despise it
They read nasty books, and make nasty songs for frail people whose souls are sold.