Hard Heads - Herbert Grönemeyer

on the street, it’s blood and boots\n'round at mum’s, they’re tea and smiles\non their own they’re going nowhere\nbut in their gang they can goosestep miles\nget the hard on when they’re hunting\nprowling for their prey in packs\nreal hard cards in real hard toe caps\nthey’d collapse should you push back\nhard boiled heads\nwho’ve had their small brains\nscrambled soft\njellies with no bone\nleaderless tape\nplaying back hatred, sounding tough\nen masse, but not alone!\nsee the victim wheelchair weak\npoor and homeless in the park\nnow the wolves are closing in\ncowards hidden by the dark\nwith their deadly killer dogs\nthey think they’re sharp just like the teeth\nbut its racist paranoia\nbites them on their soft beneath\nhard boiled heads…\nthey wash their minds in slogans white\nand hang them up until they’ve dried\nmarching to a clean new world\nwhile running from the skunk inside\nhard boiled heads…\nsoul less, booted human tanks\nthey’re crushing all that’s different\nwhile smart, white collar criminals\npush cannon fodder to the front\nhard boiled heads…