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Rome
der erscheinungen flucht
we echo death
we echo pride
odour, colour and sound
of the ones who fell from grace
those who fell away
and all the trinkets unbound
this is a lover
an anguished memory
this is a warning
we fall
as servants fall
in stone gardens
your pride should be a lighter thing
an easy thing
a cheerful thing
our solitude growing obese
we stay and fall
a rose for the vanquished
a kiss on the neck
to be hanged
we're all doubled up with love
a traitor's love
a guardian's love
rejoice at this
loneliness
this imperishable craving for hopelessness
it's hard to live on what they feed you here
it's hard to live on what they feed us
it's murder and treason
in this dead-ripe season
the leaves are falling all around
and it's hard to believe in
some sort of meaning
in a world that's turning
round and round
and everybody's leaving
everybody's kneeling
when all that's left to want
is one good reason
one good reason
for this to be left to doubt
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