Testo: Herbert GráƒÂ¶nemeyer. The Wave.

goodbye, my life will soon en
i know they'll all blame you
as for all the flowers i sent
you bastard, you let them die too!

when i'm dead how sorry you'll be
all that grief upon your plate
then you'll have to make time for me
but, ha, ha!, by then you'll be too late

i see the headlines on the front page
'singer kills himself for love'
think of all the hurt and outrage
it would cause in my fan club

loading rocks into their purses
they will lay in wait for you
cover you in spit and curses
it's your worst fears all coming true

newspapers will pull apart
the poor excuses you gave
a million fans with broken hearts
their tears will rain down on my grave

your life will be hell from now on,
like a wave they'll all be coming at ya
in an angry human sea
a quick one upon your hotel room floor
is all i'm wanting you for
cost you too much to reject me

my girl gang can get quite mad
so make love to me my dear
to turn me down would be real bad
one phone call ... i can bring those harpies here

and i bet my golden balls
that all my fans pull and tear
and with ugly midnight phone calls
turn your sweet dreams into nightmares

with jealous mouths like snarling roses
you will see them close in
and singing songs that i've composed
they'll slowly rip you limb from limb

your life will be hell from now on...