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Herrmann hieß er

de Nina Hagen

Herrmann doesn't give a shit about life
He asks himself: What's life got to show me
He reads Carlos Castagneda
Who lives light as a feather.

Real life, where the spirits dwell
Is worth living for Herrmann
Anything else makes no sense to him.

Herrmann shoots up
He says to himself: That's what gets the little brainy tripping
He feels he's wise and inspired
When he gently wets his tongue with speed.

Real life, where the spirits dwell
Makes sense for Herrmann
Anything else just doesn't hack it, spaced out, dropped out

Switched off, flipped out with it, flying high
Spaced out, dropped out
Herrmann where are you?
Switched off, flipped out
Herrmann, where are you? Herrmann is high.

Herrmann wolfs down mango and hazel grouse
he says to himself: Better this than breathing that last breath now
He loves those good vibes that spare his tender nerves.

Real life he can't just live like that
He needs the needles and the pills
To fill his veins with vital thrills.
Herrmann's balls turn blue

He says to himself: Shit, that's all I needed, ow-owwww
vibes all this bad
Herrmann's never had.

Look! The wall is tipping and the ceiling
is coming down and the carpet's getting deeper and deeper
and the words and their meaning, mama, papa!
Open up, open up right now
This is the police!

Madness is a trip to hell
The brain's diseased and wavers
In ever new dimensions there where the evil forces dwell.

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