The only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be able to function as a soldier is supposed to function: without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends upon it.
Ronald Speirs (Kommandant von spandauer Zitadellen-Gefängnis)
The lyrics are, as followin, This is the end, beautiful friend This is the end, my only friend, the end Of our elaborate plans, the end Of everything that stands, the end No safety or surprise, the end I’ll never look into your eyes, again Can you picture what will be, so limitless and free Desperately in need, of some, stranger’s hand In a, desperate land Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain And all the children are insane, all the children are insane Waiting for the summer rain, yeah There’s danger on the edge of town Ride the King’s highway, baby Weird scenes inside the gold mine Ride the highway west, baby Ride the snake, ride the snake To the lake, the ancient lake, baby The snake is long, seven miles Ride the snake, he’s old, and his skin is cold The west is the best, the west is the best Get here, and we’ll do the rest The blue bus is callin‘ us, the blue bus is callin‘ us Driver, where you taken us The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on He took a face from the ancient gallery And he walked on down the hall He went into the room where his sister lived, and, then he Paid a visit to his brother, and then he He walked on down the hall, and And he came to a door, and he looked inside Father, yes son, I want to kill you Mother, I want to… C’mon baby, take a chance with us C’mon baby, take a chance with us C’mon baby, take a chance with us And meet me at the back of the blue bus Doin‘ a blue rock, on a blue bus Doin‘ a blue rock, c’mon, yeah Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill This is the end, beautiful friend This is the end, my only friend, the end It hurts to set you free But you’ll never follow me The end of laughter and soft lies The end of nights we tried to die This is the end
Erinnere Dich,
sprachst Du nicht mit Prometheus
über das Wasser und mit Pandora
über Gesundheit, Schönheit und
ewige Jugend?
Gestern noch spielte ich auf dem
Hinterhof mit Airfix-Soldaten
und zog als Junge in den Krieg.
Heute, nach drei Chemos, fallen
mir Haare und Zähne aus
und mein Augenlicht blendet ab.
Ich tröste mich starrsinnig mit
Wiedergeburt und Himmel.
Wieso nur,-beides sind
Höllen, für mich Maulwurf.
Krankheit kann Dich in den
Glauben treiben, Erfolge in
den Wahnsinn.
Ich begreife mehr
und mehr, wie
tröstlich es ist, als junger
Soldat zu sterben, als
unbedarfter, unwissender Halm,
den der Wind knickt,
wie der Zufall es will.
“Solange die Regierung das Recht auf Kinder als Recht auf beliebig viel öffentlich zu finanzierenden Nachwuchs auslegt, werden Frauen der Unterschicht (meinte er damit die Frauen der Muslime? 😉 ) ihre Schwangerschaften als Kapital ansehen.” Gunnar Heinsohn in der FAZ
