There are no apples in autumn,
no flowers in spring,
there only is the gun tree
and gun songs, the children sing.
Underneath the gun tree
feasts are taking place
and the greatest fun is
pointing a gun at a child's face.
Everyone is laughing
but the child - it is mute,
then the laughers hail to Jesus Christ,
firing a gun salute.
The supply, thanks to the tree,
is guaranteed up to the end.
To what end, I have not found.
But over there, a gun is born
- the biggest yet -
and with a PANG falls to the ground.
Todos los derechos pertenecen a su autor. Ha sido publicado en e-Stories.org a solicitud de Norman Möschter.
Publicado en e-Stories.org el 16.08.2017.