A Dictator's Suicide

LYRICS: He ruled with rage and second-rate art, A failed moustache, a rancid heart. He raged at Jews, he banned all fun, Then cried like a bitch when the war was done. He preached of pride and Aryan genes, While pissing himself in bunker scenes. No blaze of glory, no martyr’s scream, Just stale old socks and a broken dream. Hitler’s suicide was great — a gift to human fate, A bullet split his rotten skull, then Eva sealed the gate. No angels came, no funeral hymn, just gas and one last moan, He died a coward, not a king — just flesh and shattered bones. He screamed “Sieg Heil!” then wiped his tears, When the Russians closed in, he shook with fear. The man who swore to cleanse the race Died soaked in panic, filth, and disgrace. He married quick, then kissed the night, Their honeymoon was suicide. Two corpses stewing underground — The Führer’s feast without a crown. Goebbels wept and kissed his boots, Then fed his kids the poisoned fruit. They died for lies, he died for pride, While rot and maggots worked inside. The master race, so proud and tall, Curled up like meat behind the wall. No Aryan god, no thunderstorm, Just Hitler shitting in uniform. Hitler’s suicide was great — a flushing of the slime, No glory for that limp disgrace who choked on fear and time. His Reich went down like soggy ash, with whimpers, fumes, and screams, No final stand, no noble death — just failed Führer dreams. He shot himself while dogs still barked, Then they burned the body, pale and stark. A tyrant’s end, not grand, not loud, Just steaming ash and bunker smoke. His corpse was cooked like rancid meat, While soldiers closed in through the street. The world moved on, the war burned through, And no one missed that shrinking fool. “And here we see the Führer… trembling like a cheap little fraud, clutching a cyanide capsule and praying history might still lie for him. One shot later: done. Just another Nazi stink in the wind.” He feared free books and sharper minds, But loved his maps and mythic signs. He banned cabaret, jazz, and Jews, Then sobbed alone in bunker fumes. He spoke of blood, of soil, of land, Then blew his head off with one hand. A legend? No. A toilet flush. A brown-stained myth reduced to mush. Hitler’s suicide was great — the end he truly earned, No martyr’s pyre, no warrior’s fall — just one more lesson burned. A dictator drowned in fear, with breath that stank of shame, No one will ever praise his name — except to curse the stain. Ladies and gentlemen — Raise a glass to trembling fear, To bunker fumes and Nazi tears, To little men who rant and fight, Then die like worms without the light. No final speech, no grand parade, Just scorched remains and debts unpaid. He tried to rule, he tried to preach, But history scrubbed him from its page. So danke schön, you tiny prick, For dying scared and dying quick. Your end was shit — and that was fate: Yes, Hitler’s suicide was great.