When bored Nutcracker selects
The walnuts's heads
Then death will come as a children's tale,
It will come, the Goddess of Wreck.
Bloody repression will come
In the newly rebuilt Bastille.
Blue-eyed beasts are bored
They yearn for violence.
And the prisoners are waiting for a shelter,
To rave together of Revolution.
And their comrades during interrogation
Giggle with faceless laughter.
Beggars cry for deaf gods
And cripples say silly prayers.
And the truth is clear as Nietzsche.
And putrid are remains of god.
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