Im Leben ohne Heimat
im Tode ohne Grab.
In life no home
In death no grave
And so I whirl around and around, in this breathtaking, vertignious merry-go-round, until the reaper asks me for the last dance.
eulogy to a hell of a dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh and best in that dark green dress…
Was she blinded by something she couldn't see, or blinded by seeing something she couldn't bear to look at? She was too tired to work…