Not God but a swastika,
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every women adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute,
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, Daddy,
In a picture I have of you.
A clef in your chin instead of your foot.
But no less a devil for that, no not.
Any less the black man,
Who bit my pretty read heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I wanted to die,
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones will do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And than I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a meinkampf look.
And a love of the rack and the screw,
And I said I do, I do.
So Daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone is off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.
If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two~
The vampire who said he was you,
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart,
And the villagers never liked you.
They are danceing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, Daddy, you bastard, I’m through.