“Crocodile” paints the portrait of a figure whose presence alone bends the room to silence. He’s the kind of power you can’t escape – sharp smile, tailored suit, and secrets that cut deeper than words. Every step down the hall is enough to make typewriters freeze and voices vanish. The story unfolds like a smoky fable of control, greed, and fear, where no one dares to meet his gaze and yet everyone knows: he runs the show. It’s a tale of shadows and dominance, told with cool detachment and dark charisma.

„Crocodile“ zeichnet das Bild einer Gestalt, deren bloße Anwesenheit einen Raum zum Verstummen bringt. Er ist die Art von Macht, der man nicht entkommt – scharfer Blick, maßgeschneiderter Anzug und Geheimnisse, die tiefer schneiden als Worte. Jeder Schritt den Flur hinunter lässt Schreibmaschinen verstummen und Gespräche verstummen. Die Geschichte entfaltet sich wie eine rauchige Fabel über Kontrolle, Gier und Angst, in der niemand wagt, ihm direkt in die Augen zu sehen, und doch jeder weiß: Er zieht die Fäden. Ein Stück voller Schatten und Dominanz, erzählt mit kühler Distanz und dunklem Charisma.

Crocodile

Shhh… quiet now
He’s coming down the hall

Three secretaries down, the fourth can tell
He likes his coffee hot, his secrets well
They whisper “don’t sit too close at night”
He’s got a smile that can kill the light

And when he walks the corridor slow
Every laugh, every phone call goes

Crocodile, in a tailored suit
Crocodile, with a silver boot
He waits in silence, then snaps his jaw
One bite, one shake – and he owns it all
Crocodile, you can see that grin
Crocodile, no one gets out clean

Every year another sales chief fades
Silence marks the place where power trades
Candles flicker, the smoke runs thin
He prays to numbers, and the numbers win

The hallway trembles, the ceiling sighs
You taste the silence before he arrives

Crocodile, in a tailored suit
Crocodile, with a silver boot
He waits in silence, then snaps his jaw
One bite, one shake – and he owns it all
Crocodile, you can see that grin
Crocodile, no one gets out clean

Step back – he’s in the hall
Typewriters freeze, no sound at all
Shoes click slow, like a funeral drum
Every shoulder stiff, every tongue goes numb
Eyes on the carpet, hands held tight
No one stands tall in his line of sight
Money in the drawer, skeleton key
The Crocodile smiles – and you pay the fee

Crocodile, in the neon glow
Crocodile, everybody knows
He feasts on futures they thought were real
And still they whisper, “his power is real”
Crocodile, don’t you turn around
Crocodile, he still runs this town

Shhh…
Quiet now…
The Crocodile’s here awhile


Crocodile

BRO