Its your tilted gait
Of a thousand years of leaning always west
And since you birthed this thought there’s no turning off
The sorrow left then for what’s trampled over
When human dignity is violable
When I can predict how this all will go
For each tattooed arm, and each train departed
To the south and east our rational souls would go
You’re just a Hapsburg man,
Or a manifesto’s fresh new sycophant
I wish you could graze on this apathy.
To an unconcerned and misbegotten leading
Through the sapper’s eye to unfiltered night
To the student pogroms and clandestine rights
And now on every door that’s been marked before
And in every worthless bleeding heart that turns its own