Every time, in the bleak shadowed night, I long before a glaring moon;

I want to be you, I want to be just like you.

The mangrove trees sway late afternoon, in branches twisted and tangled,

Just like you; I want to be just like you.

There are wishing stars streaming through the heavens high; and just once I wish,

I could be just like you. I want to be you.

The nomad Nazis in a row, march and cry, “Seig heil”; leave me to die.

I want to be you; dirty dictator, I want to be you.

Realise you leave me to cry; to wash the night and hold strong the world’s grief, and could I sigh,

“I want to be you. I want to be just like you;” I want to leave my mind to dry.

In the night, on wishing stars I fly; repeat, repeat, “Let me be you.”

I hold the pain of the planet on my shoulders, and yet you let it crush me.

I hold the sins of twelve-thousand men in my hands, yet you allow it to run like blood; pierce my skin; flagellate my body in envy.

Sell me to those words, “I want to be you.”

A prostitute to jealously, cramped in your world; let me give my body to you; beaten and naked before the realm of God,

And how this bitch longs to be you; how this bitch longs to be you.

I have no name, I have no soul, but touch my brain, tell me to be you.

Recognise me. Utilize me. Brutalise me, and empty my shell into a cup,

I want to be you; dirty dictator, I want to be you.