Holes in the walls with a side of melted stone
Pergamon stares leaves her breathless and alone
Barrage alley, accurately, Hanni's home
Past her bedtime cross the red line – a dissolving foam
My DNA she thought splattered all around
8 decades rain she saw failed to cleanse the ground
Russians shelled near, father fell here, in late '45.
Never knew his, child apprenticed, in death, but alive.
Museum Island showcased many stories
Hers erased down on these streets – fuck the 40s.
Old herself now she walks past pockmarked arches
Trying to buck time, fuck all its gloating marches
Life was all tears, wasted small years, sequestered marks
Blame the Fuhrer, or endure a 1000-year dark.
Museum Island showcased many stories
Screw all these rules and psycho tools, let's be lawless.
Taking out her gun
Ignore the people run
Relief is what she's after
Time to join her father
Blue-light Berlin, sweeps the red of cobblestones.
Hanni's coup de grace was the fastest way home
Soviets, Nazis, Checkpoint Charlie, claimed just one more
History repeats, repeats, repeats for evermore
Museum Island cut off from her story.
But Hanni's here now, despaired lieb frau, ducked out of all glory