The years run from you like breadcrumbs tossed in trash
They gather together in hows of broken dreams
Thou look back and think:
Why did I sell myself –
Not for more?
Nights will not be much after this
Your lifetime is a burned stub in a whirling ashtray
Thou look back and think:
Why did I sell myself –
Ashes are sprinkled over the coffin and no one recalls who you were
Nothing is as time-worn as a life that is about to end
You didn't stand fast and thus no one bothers with your memory
We take the night-swarthy nothingness and endless dirt in bottomless forgetfulness
I hide myself under the shroud
That the cold has bedecked
Night stares silent
She tells lies
Nothingness floats above me
Barelegged, I fight back
My dying bed I make
My dying bed I make
Years ran from you like breadcrumbs were tossed in trash
They gathered together in hows of broken dreams
How oft was it that thou looked back and thought:
Why did I sell myself –
Not for more?