Rome
the orchards
in the blue dawns of summer 
we revoked silence and its claws 
on the day they swore not to betray their men 
in the blue dawns of summer 
black writing on wet walls 
lets us float in a stupor of blood 
bewegung entsteht durch haltung 
so we are left to wander 
through hollow ropes of sand 
we who came here for gold 
we who brought the sword 
wine milk and secret wars 
into the orchards we slide 
a call to worship a blind king reborn 
we brought the sword – nothing more 
bewegung entsteht durch haltung 
es war und es ist 
through streets and fields 
crowded with lovers 
again 
in tombs, in forrests 
again