***
Fotze,
Hundesohn make
the political parties
of
the mad dogs, this is what is fated for us,
merciful
hearts, the slaves of the sniggering
Tirtans,
toys of some grotesque deliria; these
assassins
assembled in foaming packs are
laughing
terrifyingly long: how foolish,
stupid,
credulous we are, we the merciful
hearts
that they loot, ridicule they bury us
like
the savages but their fraud is killing, too
and
they sing them in orgies fotze, fotze.
No comments:
Post a Comment