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Heilig ist hier alles, Geld, Bomben, Häuser Und alles schreit nur, Weil sie heilig sind Und nichts bewegt sich, Weil sie heilig sind Heilig, heilig, heilig, heilig, heilig, heilig Alles an jeder Ecke So heilig, daß man kotzen will, Daß man es nicht mehr erträgt, Daß man es nicht riechen kann, Weil es so heilig stinkt, So heilig ist es hier, Daß alles sterben muß, sofort. Nichts strebt mehr und nichts will, Nur ein stetiges Drehen Im Zentrum um das Selbst Im Eskapismus eng verbunden Das Heroin der Bürger, Geformt vom Fluß, der zieht Und doch alles um ihn schläft In steter Nicht-Bewegung Und die Oberfläche rast, Weil es so heilig ist, So heilig, heilig, heilig, heilig Heilig sind die Geborenen und Ungeborenen, und Nachgeborenen und Vorgeborenen, h eilig sind sie, heilig, heilig, Die Autos, heilig, Die Straßen, Wege, Sandpisten, heilig, Die Zeichen, die Lichter, die freie Fahrt, heilig, Heilig sind die Mächtigen, heilig sind

I saw the greatest minds of my time pushing battered through the nights Who never hesitated just one moment to demand everything, everything and not only a job there was to endure, Who drank through the nights of Kreuz-, Schöne- und P-berg long before anybody else, Who never became sell-outs and preferred to chew old bones, starving of hunger, Who passed the hours like wolfs; sleeping at day and hunting at night, Who heartrending snarled at the moon of advertisement billboards, And who, in their apartments oblivion, howled with the stamping beats of electro swing, ‘til their neighbours ripped their own eyes out in rage, Who danced on every feast, as long as one would let them, Who sat and talked on every bash, as long as one would listen, Who didn’t bother if someone bothered, Who were capable of understanding everything, but just chose that they would not to, Who past out at university because the rest of their lives had to do without sleep, Who never wanted to be part of somethin

And then ... Just a moment in time/ when we thought we were free/ skipping through the fields/ hand in hand/ innocent/ What's left of that?/ Only the remanence of a life that is gone/ like iron dust in the desert/ blown into the void and forgotten.  And then ... We were lovers holding on/ another/ holding on when it got dark/ to dark to see/ lovers/ just for once we were more than just ourselves/ we were more than just the pieces of our atomic matter/ more than just our protein structures/ Did we waste it? And then ... You hold my hand the night we met/ I hoped you'd never let go/ I hoped I'd woke/ up next to you the next morning/ knowing I'd lived/ knowing that something would come/ something would be there in the damp fog that was and is the future/ And there was. And then ... I did wake up and you were there/ looking at me/ hung over like I/ wondering what happened/ wondering what we were/ but realising in that very moment/ we are/ now/ here/ together.

it's the last days of summer dogs, men and women,  trees and scared skyline by the river proclaiming the dawn of a new time, a new era,  a firework is coming,  erupting,  dripping from the fingers the broken, ragged figures shuffling from the trains,  coming by foot, not faceless, no more,  but the fruits  of our smug ignorance wrenching in their guts while we  turn our eyes away with decadent sobs. faces, so many, thousands and more men, father, mothers, women,  elders and children wrapped in blankets of horrors and hopes mashed with undefined expressions and fools stand by the road and shout, bottles sticks and stones break bones and utter hate and greed pouring from their shutters With the relicts of a broken idea a Weltanschauung  producing only hate and despair a Weltanschauung  so far beyond all reason it hurts fools with nothing but the mischief they mutter and i fear, it might soon be dark again in germany, a winter's tale my answer 

days break hands in pieces lies a home. you never could forget the blues in darkest tone there's a gap that strikes death. in alabama backyards foam of memories from yesterday and you're chewing on a bone. those outlived flags flap in the wind a poison and a lie made by your next of kin expecting you to die. and you find yourself in shatters on the other side of oceans. get away. it screams and patters in the dark back of your skull. one last nod to your friends and your family as well. they ask you "where?" and you just answer "hell". on afternoons at beaches far away from home stink of purity and preachers carving tombstones from their bones you packed all your things little boxes full of junk. sprung from promises that you safe kept in your trunk. you put them on shelves  and labeled them. quite nice. however worthless now to millions and trashed unrecognised.