Amok
By Frank Peter Hermsen
There´s a whispering cloud in my head
And some sort of hate that makes me blind
For all this beauty all around
And the smiling faces that destruct my mind
I wont be quiet anymore
I will break the arms that hold me still
I´ll work again but for myself
And this town here is my place to till
I love these people of this wellfare-state
Who sent me to Vietnam in ´64
Where I learned to hide to fight to kill
And where I became a child of that war
I love their eyes and their crazy hate
That scared my heart when I returned
And I even love the nightmare voices
Of the slant-eyed children that I burned
No job no girl no chance to be free
No telephone and noone to call
No home and noone who dares to care
My life is a tunnel that becomes to small
So I walk through my own damnation
Followed by faces that I´ll never know
Someone speaks ´bout desintegration
But I pray for the first stone to throw
Oh Lord, please let them hear
Oh Lord, or I´ll make them fear
Oh Lord, open their hearts
Oh Lord, my amok-run starts
Kill while you may
Kill while you may
Kill while you may
Kill while you may