The lights are down in Germany 

and Germany is closed to me 

different somehow this time. 



The airport's stiff, cold corridors 

ring empty beats through hollow feet 

that I find to be mine. 



Different Germany. 

History repeats somehow. 

Different Germany. 

Afraid to know you now. 



And past my eyes with leathered gaze 

stare clean-cut boys all dressed as men 

in sharpened uniform. 

Who turned the clock? (Moved on or back) 

And what dark chill is gathering still 

before the storm. 



Out in the street a tableau double-glazed 

with laughing girls whose fastened smiles 

are clearly not meant for me.