Mit einem Gedicht von Leonard Cohen.
Ja, ein Gedicht, kein Song!
When you kneel on the bench
in both cities, I have heard suburbanites
hold my manhood as I ran.
When you wrap your lips
about the amber code
and urge my elected representatives,
I understand those who have said please,
who danced around and slashed
and kissed it, making him suck.
Kneel, love, between your serves.
So far I had only seen dicks in magazines
perform the ceremony.
Kneel until I come to Being
with a groan that reached the ears of this blond
that Samson really did slay.
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