Über Den Fluss

He woke up, as his flesh fell off … slice by slice,
floating high up in the air, more than ten-thousand miles.
he said, he was crucified underneath a baneful sky,
had nails through feet and hands,
yes, also nails in his eyes.
in defiance of all living things he hang there … upside down,
his poor, vicious face almost touching the ground.
he knows well where he’s been,
don’t let him in !!!
He claimed twelve-thousand crucifixes transformed
into distorted sombre trees,
blood ran down their scarred trunks,
gushed slowly dripping out of the leaves.
the offering gathered in a chalice, all golden,
held by the dirty hands of a black-bearded man,
his face sheer spitefulness.
he knows well where he’s been;
so, don’t let him, don’t let him in …
don’t let him in !!!