|
I tell you how i hate you |
|
In the voice my father used |
|
You answer with your mother's worn cliches |
|
And in another life |
|
Your father hears his wife |
|
And i see his fury blazing |
|
In your gaze |
|
An echo hears an echo |
|
And my mother's fist is raised |
|
The hand i clench at you |
|
Shows her distrust |
|
The way one behaves |
|
Is determined in the graves |
|
Of all the great grandparents |
|
Gone to dust |
|
Our fathers fight through us |
|
As they fought their father's war |
|
And the same old scene's repeated |
|
As before and before and before |
|
And before and before |
|
And when i tell you how i hate you |
|
Before the birth of jesus |
|
Before the death of caesar |
|
Before siddhartha |
|
Before ulysses |
|
Before the trojan war |
|
I tell you how i hate you |
|
And a long decaying anger |
|
Comes alive inside a castle |
|
And behind an ancient door |
|
The empress of chine |
|
Tells her lover how she |
|
Hates him |
|
She tells him |
|
Once more |
|
And once more |
|
And once more |
|
And once more... |
