Landung berechtigt [English translation]

(stanza 1)

Landing justified, crew nodding in the stern.

It becomes intergalactic.

Hatch open, everything is spinning, cracks in the ground are hissing, the earth is shaking.

Radio on, radio off...

contaminated planet.

Lard in the bars, streets and flower beds.

The TV garden is overgrown the district, stuck to the wall, has caulked transmitters,

Making you weak and sick, littering the countryside.

Yes man, handshake, plant is roasting, has 8 terrawatt.

The pavement shakes, burns like comets aisles in the flower bed.

That's the proof: crisis turned around.

Earthlings, behold this device!

Space import, we've been on the road a long time, our complexion has suffered, but now we've got the hang of it,

Love and bass, we see you understand

Engines on!

On the horizon.

(chorus)

Bombs of love, wings of scrap, big machines landing in the debris.

Engines on!

On the horizon.

(chorus)

Bombs of love, wings of scrap, big machines land in rubble.

Landing right, crew nodding in the rear.

Yes, yes

(stanza 2)

Between artificial palm trees and poison-green leaves stands a palace of plastic and glitter.

Wind is tugging at the curtain, strobo thunderstorm, Jesus is dead, Lady Guetta reigns!

Polyester Mecca, trendy tinsel, all made of sugar, spilled with nectar,

lickable LPs, phlegm selecta, edible filth!

Get away!

Six pairs of moonboots weave through hedges like tractors, throw boomboxes, solder power plugs,

Pressing CDs as thick as six planks, hits for the champagne bar, beats for the Vectra.

Everything becomes checkable, the tricks of the sorcerers, bent spoons, the floating champagne glass,

big machines rolling, the floor is shaking.

Rattling bass, all the paint is peeling.

Engines on!

(chorus)

Bombs of love, wings of scrap, big machines land in rubble.

Landing right, crew nodding in the rear.

(stanza 3)

From now on, nothing stays the same!

Let my crew into your room!

The moon is shining, the spaceship is shimmering.

Now we'll be smashing until this world only flickers!

You throw away what has no sense, all the nonsense that shimmers and glimmers.

The pop sky dawns, the final enemy whimpers and sinks into the rubble.

Landing justified, the crew in the rear nod.

It becomes intergalactic.

Landing justified, crew in the rear nod.

It becomes intergalactic.

Engines on!

On the horizon.

(chorus)

Bombs of love, wings of scrap, big machines land in rubble.

Engines on!

(chorus)

On the horizon.

Bombs of love, wings of scrap, big machines land in the rubble.

• Artist:Rakede
• Album:Rakede