In case of revolution
please break the glass
when we were young
false alarms were punishable by death
Chorus:
They thought I was a Marine Barracks.
They thought I was a tire burning.
they knew it was him
the ink was all over his hand
but no one called out the dogs because it is said
the canines ate the corpses in Sabra and Shatilla
that summer one house burned
each week until they were gone.
The bitterness of translation
is the joy of understanding,
and vice versa.
Budapest Bhudda pest.
No comments:
Post a Comment