That Guys In Rammstein by The Paranoid Style Lyrics

A great coat of piano felt
A note so sour it leaves a welt
Black coffee steams a face of stone
Thick yellowed fingers peck his phone

What in the world’s come over me
Asking for a friend
That guy’s in Rammstein
Kaiser’s in a can and I’m nearing the end

A rusty bench, a leafless tree
George V. Higgins morality
A meal of snakes, a feast of wrath
The lady saws herself in half

What in the world’s come over me
Asking for a friend
That guy’s in Rammstein
Kaiser’s in a can and I’m nearing the end

No buck, no mark, no cancelled check
Poor Teutonic architect
He’ll dress you up in scratchy things
He’ll wet his beak, he’ll wax your wings
What’s he got up that sleeve?
What’s he got in that bag?
That guy’s in Rammstein
Wolfpack going out for a morning drag
Wolfpack going out for a morning drag
Wolfpack going out for a morning drag