Prepare to run, Imelda, you and your shoes.
Hum dekhenge
Your windows will rattle, Erich, when they pour out of the
Nikolaikirche.
Hum dekhenge
Is your helicopter ready — the crowds are chanting
Timisoara.
Hum dekhenge
Yes we know, Deng, that you have the tanks ready to run
over us. Even then.
Hum dekhenge
On another day, you will hide in a concrete pipe, hungry
and fearful, your silken tents torn to pieces.
Hum dekhenge
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