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[silberfeuer]

we wound ourselves with little knives
sit up and beg for more
like yellow dogs in summer-time
we swim to reach the shore

remorse! remorse!
i call it jest
to give my all, so nihil yet
i sharpen my little knives
prey for forgiveness
and watch me bleed again

the sickness in my belly
grew dragon's beard and fangs
devoured the holy pearl
put all the tears to shame
pain you call it
i call it love

given sought impression
he waves to return
like salt against the glass
in prism colors burns
tree-tops whisper nothing
the wind is in decay

alas! alas!
i had no card to play
looks like the organ grinder
will never go away
the little knives that wound us tight
splinter like dandy-lions play