Bob Geldof

  •  Name Bob Geldof
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  • Bob Geldof Roads Of Germany Lyrics

           

    I'm driving on the road that Hitler built

    I'm driving on the road that Hitler built

    This is the place where history stopped to shit

    And I'm driving on the road that Hitler built



    I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next

    There's more holes in Joe's than Adolf's

    But what would you expect

    I wonder what the Germans did

    To fall from history's nest

    And I'm driving on the road that Stalin built next



    On the roads of Germany

    On the roads of Germany

    These are the roads of the 20th century

    And there's blood and steel and leather

    Mixed into that concrete

    When you're riding on the roads of high Germany



    I'm cruising on Konrad's Autobahn

    Konrad's got a Beetle and Ludwig a Trabant

    And Willy's got a Merc and Erich's got a tank

    But that road only took me to a concrete dead end trap



    We're driving on the road that never ends

    All roads lead to exit signs and then they start again

    And Helmut's building on the wheel of history as it spins

    And history never ends 'cos it's too busy beginning



    On the roads of Germany

    On the roads of Germany

    These are the roads of the 20th century

    And there's blood and steel and leather

    Mixed into that concrete

    When you're riding on the roads of high Germany



    And I'm walking in a Black Forest lane

    And I step into the trees for to get some leafy shade

    And I fall asleep in some dappled sunlit glade

    And I dream and in my dream I am lost and afraid

    And it grows dark, it grows damp and I shiver and I'm cold

    And deep inside the forest something obscenely old

    Stirs and shakes and comes awake and in it's putrid pit

    It belches and it squirms in its own dirt and filth

    And slithers on it's stinking slime while everything holds its breath

    And its slow thighs, blank eyes pitiless as the past

    Reborn from its fitful sleep, its hour come again at last

    Slouches towards its own Jerusalem to be re-cast

    And in my horror I recognise myself in it as it passes

    Familiar and repulsive and as old as mortal man

    This philosophy of brutality, ignorance and hate

    Buried deep in everyone waiting to escape

    And you must kill it before it kills you and everything in its wake

    And I take my knife and I kill it, and it screams and then I wake

    And I'm terrified and horrified and in this mortal state

    I stagger toward the curbside of the 4 lane motorway

    "Drive" I say and we drive and soon I stop shaking

    But I can't stop thinking 'bout these dreams and revelations

    Except it's not a dream it's real and it's of our own making

    And it's not just Germany it's everywhere and the whole world is a-quaking

    As we turn onto this road we all seem to be taking

    And you can't help thinking these things on the roads of Germany





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