The Slaughterhouse
1968
At noon they beat someone in the office
I count the blows, I measure the blood
I am the fattened beast, they’ve shut me in the slaughterhouse
today you, tomorrow, me.
They beat Andreas on the terrace
I count the blows, I measure the pain.
We’ll meet again behind the wall;
tap-tap, you, tap-tap, me
which means, in this dumb language,
I’m holding on, I’m holding on well.
In our hearts the feast begins:
tap-tap you, tap-tap, me.
Our slaughterhouse smelled of thyme
and our cell, red sky.
The Slaughterhouse
At noon they beat someone in the office
I count the blows, I measure the blood
I am the fattened beast, they’ve shut me in the slaughterhouse
today you, tomorrow, me.
They beat Andreas on the terrace
I count the blows, I measure the pain.
We’ll meet again behind the wall;
tap-tap, you, tap-tap, me
which means, in this dumb language,
I’m holding on, I’m holding on well.
In our hearts the feast begins:
tap-tap you, tap-tap, me.
Our slaughterhouse smelled of thyme
and our cell, red sky.
