The lights are down in Germany and Germany is closed to me different somehow this time. The airport's stiff, cold corridors ring empty beats through hollow feet that I find to be mine. Different Germany. History repeats somehow. Different Germany. Afraid to know you now. And past my eyes with leathered gaze stare clean-cut boys all dressed as men in sharpened uniform. Who turned the clock? (Moved on or back) And what dark chill is gathering still before the storm. Out in the street a tableau double-glazed with laughing girls whose fastened smiles are clearly not meant for me.
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