Born long before the second war

Then drafted only weeks before it ends

To sit for eighteen months in England

My mother’s blond and wall-eyed boy has gone for good

He’s understood too much of life is gone that’s not forgotten

Remember, remember

Berlin like a bride in early Springtime bathed in the April rain

I am a brash and painted whore; consume the world still needing more

To spend myself then walk into the Big Blue

I want it all want all you’ve got

Your moist and tender hollow spots

To read the lines of every woman’s secret

Remember, remember

The songs of the clown and grievous angel

Ring ‘til the end of time

I want the world can never be

In images I cannot see

In words that I can hear but not remember

Remember, remember

The song of the clowns and grievous angel

Like the beating of wings and the changing of things

Will run ‘til the end of time