How lonely sits Berlin
A matter of my sin,
Compulsive signs of hope,
Transformed to misery.
How lonely stands the star,
For nothing but poetry,
In love with the Sun itself,
A backlash to it’s memory.
How lonely sits Berlin,
Drags me onto transcendence,
Oh, how I wish I jumped the Berlin Wall,
Oh, how I wish death awaits the absurd of my mind.
The Girl With Flowers In Her Hair 