You are the dark cloud that shits blackness on us
You are the sun of a misty morning in a concentration camp
You are the pale eye of the Moon witnessing a rape of a retarded girl in the moors of Yorkshire
You are the cry that can be heard from that house beyond the lake
You are rain, playing a tune to the window of the one,
who is, with tears in his eyes,
sucking the barrel of his brother´s rifle
In your valley the incest families reside
You are the locked door that leads to the basement where Sarah was nineteen years old
And we are here,
With our clenched hands
And our sharpened knives
Waiting
Waiting
And waiting
