THE SWASTIKA WITH BRUISES
It wasn't as if anything new had transpired.
We'd already built the big cities and bombed them down
to smithereens - smoldering hulks of 'things that once were'.
The gendarmes and the frilly guys with lace and flowers
kept coming around seeking alms. Some weird
power-salute took place among men who were boys.
The female side of things - like a painting turned
the wrong way hanging on the wall - just kept
trying to come through.
From the Warsaw Ghetto through Stalag 17,
everywhere, they all were singing the same theme :
'tomorrow belongs to us'. Yes, well maybe.
Berlin was a time like Weimar was
an era. All those crazy doctor-types,
prancing around barefoot, in
army hats and tutus.
It wasn't as if anything new had transpired.
We'd already built the big cities and bombed them down
to smithereens - smoldering hulks of 'things that once were'.
The gendarmes and the frilly guys with lace and flowers
kept coming around seeking alms. Some weird
power-salute took place among men who were boys.
The female side of things - like a painting turned
the wrong way hanging on the wall - just kept
trying to come through.
From the Warsaw Ghetto through Stalag 17,
everywhere, they all were singing the same theme :
'tomorrow belongs to us'. Yes, well maybe.
Berlin was a time like Weimar was
an era. All those crazy doctor-types,
prancing around barefoot, in
army hats and tutus.
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