i shall retrace my steps

to cover up my tracks

to conceal my taste for treason

to detach you from me

and the hatred offered by a father's heart

will always keep brothers apart

we are tranquil and benevolent

we don't like noisy surprises

we stay on the move

for stillness brings death

and slowness brings fear

we men of cold politeness

shall never melt into that kindness of yours

no matter how we try

you say „why weep over what?“

we say weep until the weeping's done

and we shall weep for another day

for what binds us to our grief

binds the sculptor to his clay

for what binds us to our grief

binds the sculptor to his clay

we are the most alive

the most rootless

with whips and chains we cross

the ruins of europe

and from time to time

trapped in reflections

we feel there's no place

no home for us but this land

this land is mine

this land is yours

you only suffer as long as you want to

men like us do not let each other drown

we share the sweetest black bread

that delicate grain of scorn

no god, no master, no master slave

i no longer serve you, nor your palace of flesh

when loneliness spreads out between our sheets

our sacrifice is a knife at the throat of time

but we shall cut it up some other day

for what binds us to our grief

binds the sculptor to his clay

for what binds us to our grief

binds the sculptor to his clay

in life, in love, in longing

i know

i deserted like you

without wealth, without property

without official title or office...

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