I'm driving on the road that Hitler built
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I'm driving on the road that Hitler built
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This is the place where history stopped to shit
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And I'm driving on the road that Hitler built
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I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next
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There's more holes in Joe's than Adolf's
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But what would you expect
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I wonder what the Germans did
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To fall from history's nest
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And I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next
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On the roads of Germany
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On the roads of Germany
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These are the roads of the 20th century
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And there's blood and steel and leather
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Mixed into that concrete
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When you're riding on the roads of high Germany
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I'm cruising on Konrad's Autobahn
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Konrad's got a Beetle and Ludwig a Trabant
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And Willy's got a Merc and Erich's got a tank
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But that road only took me to a concrete dead end trap
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We're driving on the road that never ends
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All roads lead to exit signs and then they start again
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And Helmut's building on the wheel of history as it spins
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And history never ends 'cos it's too busy beginning
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On the roads of Germany
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On the roads of Germany
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These are the roads of the 20th century
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And there's blood and steel and leather
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Mixed into that concrete
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When you're riding on the roads of high Germany
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And I'm walking in a Black Forest lane
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And I step into the trees for to get some leafy shade
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And I fall asleep in some dappled sunlit glade
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And I dream and in my dream I am lost and afraid
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And it grows dark, it grows damp and I shiver and I'm cold
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And deep inside the forest something obscenely old
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Stirs and shakes and comes awake and in it's putrid pit
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It belches and it squirms in its own dirt and filth
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And slithers on it's stinking slime while everything holds its breath
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And its slow thighs, blank eyes pitiless as the past
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Reborn from its fitful sleep, its hour come again at last
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Slouches towards its own Jerusalem to be re-cast
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And in my horror I recognise myself in it as it passes
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Familiar and repulsive and as old as mortal man
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This philosophy of brutality, ignorance and hate
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Buried deep in everyone waiting to escape
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And you must kill it before it kills you and everything in its wake
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And I take my knife and I kill it, and it screams and then I wake
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And I'm terrified and horrified and in this mortal state
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I stagger toward the curbside of the 4 lane motorway
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"Drive" I say and we drive and soon I stop shaking
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But I can't stop thinking 'bout these dreams and revelations
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Except it's not a dream it's real and it's of our own making
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And it's not just Germany it's everywhere and the whole world is a-quaking
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As we turn onto this road we all seem to be taking
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And you can't help thinking these things on the roads of Germany
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Roads Of Germany
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| Bob Geldof |
