I am the son of Adolf HitlernMy father was a monster, and my mother... oh my poor mother !nSometimes it's hard, sometimes it's heavy to carrynBut every son of should join their hands and tell the good people :nWe're not sons of, we're not sons of...nWe are freaks.nI'm walking in the streets through your screaming, through your spitnAnd here are your wives saying : Look at his eyes, he must be the devil inside... The texture of his hair, the rictus on his face : yes he's the son of Adolf Hitler !nSometimes it's hard, sometimes it's heavy to carrynBut every son of should join their hands and tell the good people :nWe're not sons of, we're not sons of...nThat's what the people of this town want you to know : nIf your blood is polluted, if you're in any need of aid...nYou should be better off dead !