Dear Germany. I’m not sure how to say this.
There isn’t a way to keep it quick and painless.
You know Kraftwerk and Rammstein were always on my playlist
and I gorged on your sausage even though you weren’t the sanest
or politest beauty I could’ve gone for.
I lapped you up until the point of lockjaw,
you dragged me up to heaven like some flapping, fluttering condor
cartwheeling through the clouds as I bellowed, “Encore! Encore!”
Ich liebte dich, Deutschland wie linsen ihre spätzle,
Berliner ihre schnauze, eine bratwurst ihren metzger.
But you’ve changed, Germany. Like a post office in an earthquake
changes into rubble, like a healthy birthrate
changes into trouble once every brain is work-shaped
and raiders burst through barricades, all hell-bent on their first rape.
You started hanging round with all those hipsters
and whores with no boundaries, those sitzpinklers
swallowing their blue pills and globalist cock.
No standards, no borders. I’m paralysed with shock.
Ich liebte dich, du arschloch! Wie der Bayer seine prinzen,
der Ossi seinen Trabi, der Schwabe seine münzen!
You boast and boast about your affluence,
but what was your last gift to me? Perfume that smells like flatulence.
You told me I should wear it to broaden my horizon
but darling, what you call a gift I call poison.
If you think you need to do it, can’t you do it offshore?
Do you expect your friends to bellow “Encore! Encore!”?
And though you scrub and scrub and scrub to render your guilt painless,
the perfumes of Arabia won’t leave your hand stainless.
You’ve destroyed yourself. Yourself and me too.
I lie here every night and sob.
I don’t know what to do.
You’ve destroyed everything with your traitor’s kiss.
I’ll never forget or forgive you for this.
Ich liebte dich, du dummkopf! Du blindmündiger spinner!
Ich liebte dich! Aber auf wiedersehen für immer.
