forefeeling of the civil war

when you are standing at the hungry wall
when a noose shines instead of the sun
when you are seeing night in your eyes
when your hands are ready for trouble
when birds get slaughtered in early spring
when over your shoulder storm is boiling above
when falsehood about treason is crowing
when brakes are screeching about love

while those you trusted have gone far away
and their movements are heard no more
and in raw early morn lowlifes in scorn
carve on your chest with thorns
forefeeling of the civil war

when the clouds are below the knees
when pieces of tongue are on your teeth
when nationality votes for blood
when loneliness burns you to the ground
when the word FAITH is like a knife
when the books are melted into the bells
when suicide is the most righteous of deeds
when nervous tick is the rhythm of your life

and in shiny temple faces of saints
tell you that you are not of the church
what do you sing, when instead of death
you got dirty dreams and nothing more?
FOREFEELING OF THE CIVIL WAR

when the black wind tears the sails apart
and the light of projectors spits pain in your face
revolution without victims is a bunch of lies--
hear the hearts bleating of those who are like lice
when the nature explodes and the boiling scum
sets on fire the skies that are falling down
while Antiutopia on a rusty horse
covers the graves of those tired of wait
when the word music is...
when the word music is...