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son poem

geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
wenn Sie heute abend kommen
gegangen vor uns
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
Sie sind schön und verblassen
die Wiese kroch
Nobility des Todes wieder
er erklärt von den guten alten Zeiten

 



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