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