He lived in Berlin in May Forty-five,
midst concrete rubble and dying dreams
Volksturm`s crest on his empty sleeve
queueing to mingle with unfortunate limbs
They fought in Paris, May Seventy-one
last barricade falling, young lovers in arms
through cursed ideals she followed her man
the firing squad killing `nother romance
He dwelt in Phnom Penh, May Seventy-five
complacent a bit, warnings be damned
future was steamrolled, lucky ones ran
Year Zero arrived, courtesy of reason maimed
She drank in Khartoum, May Eighty-five
heads impaled with hive-minded rage
Highland Malt straight, strong as Mahdi`s strive
Slow recollection, was that son`s head in a cage ?
All with their reasons, perhaps even clear
humans offering sacrifice, kneeling on the floor
her majesty Hope it was, crowned in fear
seldomly in mood, she ran through the back door.
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