i shall retrace my steps      to cover up my tracks      to conceal my taste for treason      to detach you from me      and the hatred offered by a father’s heart      will always keep brothers apart      we are tranquil and benevolent      we don’t like noisy surprises      we stay on the move      for stillness brings death      and slowness brings fear      we men of cold politeness      shall never melt into that kindness of yours      no matter how we try      you say „why weep over what?“      we say weep until the weeping’s done      and we shall weep for another day      for what binds us to our grief      binds the sculptor to his clay      for what binds us to our grief      binds the sculptor to his clay      we are the most alive      the most rootless      with whips and chains we cross      the ruins of europe      and from time to time      trapped in reflections      we feel there’s no place      no home for us but this land      this land is mine      this land is yours      you only suffer as long as you want to      men like us do not let each other drown       we share the sweetest black bread      that delicate grain of scorn      no god, no master, no master slave      i no longer serve you, nor your palace of flesh      when loneliness spreads out between our sheets       our sacrifice is a knife at the throat of time      but we shall cut it up some other day      for what binds us to our grief      binds the sculptor to his clay      for what binds us to our grief      binds the sculptor to his clay      in life, in love, in longing      i know      i deserted like you      without wealth, without property      without official title or office...