Kulturkampf The Dead Awake
My life is over and I’ve washed my hands, and I can’t hear to think what is left behind - an image of a frozen, desolate corpse - an image for the children of war they’ve been bought. No longer people cry for the man in the armchair, because all the weak are dead and Jews have been destroyed. The strong who are left live in a system of bureaucracy, and the people who are left live in hate, death and agony. Should I ever wake up for a world that I love? Should I ever wake up when there’s peace in the air? Is there never going to be a cease to all the fighting, or is there going to be that cold, stale death?
