Hamburg, St. Pauli on the Grosse Freiheit,
Beat music spilling out into the night,
Cheap guitars in the bars, setting the scene,
The whole group’s trying to look like James Dean.
Well I’m a Reeperbahn rocker, got my hair greased high,
I wear a black leather jacket and a bootlace tie,
I point my winklepickers to the old Bierkeller,
Gimme that backbeat schnell-uh, schnell-uh, schnell-uh.
Beer, bands, hookers and those go-go pills,
Fast cover versions giving me cheap thrills,
Red mist, flying fists, the peppermint twist,
The stage collapses but the band persists.
The crowd gets wilder and the walls start sweating,
Like a one horse race where there’s no one betting,
Get Hip – Let Rip, the bouncers wade in,
A twenty-two stone sailor, he takes it on the chin.
A siren wails, it’s the cops gate crashing,
The bartender called them when the glass started smashing,
Gang war, fire door, fall into the street,
Brush myself down as I get back on my feet.
I got preludin eyes and my head is still spinning,
Feel alright now and I can’t stop grinning,
Kick start, depart, I can’t take no more,
Hit the autobahn on my Ariel square four.