The hero of the city sometimes walks in his socks
The d*ck of the city doesn't always make those messes
It's hard to live up to a title like 'Hero of the city'
He has zero energy to point his finger
No, not the youngest anymore, his hair keeps getting grayer
The Hero of the city, the hero's had enough for now
With a barmaid who sweetly shakes her ass and spins her records
The Hero f*cked off for a little while
Sitting for a bit on that stool of the d*ck of the city
And the d*ck of the city sees the Hero in his spot
His beer and his smokes, that's his hangout
But he also sees the Hero, his sad little face, and keeps quiet
And the Hero says out loud: 'What do I do now, man?
'Cause everybody still has their own opinion
So who am I to decide what can and can't be?'
And so they sat there, blaming nobody for a moment
The Hero and the d*ck, so brotherly, silent
Grins on their mugs, 'cause that barmaid just kept spinning
And worries, you can deal with those tomorrow again
And that's how they became friends, about forty years
Playing pool together, and both with little hair
A fart would crack them up, and they'd tell each other the truth
Tomorrow came way too fast
Glasses on their noses, they sat there side by side
And old age crept in, and sickness, huffing, groans, sobs, sh*t
Listening? No way, they both wanted to be right
And even on the deathbed still a hefty fart
The laugh and the tear were their eternal self-preservation
'Hey d*ck,' said the Hero, 'we had it fixed up nicely
Just bury me over there tomorrow.'
And there stood the d*ck, and the grave was deserted
Had lots of friends, and left nothing behind
And the rain softly beat on the muddy path
And he softly hummed the barmaid's song
Remembered that crucial fight for the kiss from that girl
Well, he'd gotten that one
And now he beat the Hero again, who'd ever have thought
But it hurt him way more than he'd ever expected
And he said: 'I miss you, my friend, farewell and sleep tight'