(They had taken my mother to a concentration camp from which she'd never return) (Then I made my way to the suburbs of Berlin) (Where a catholic family who had been friends of my father's and mother's gave me shelter) (How long did you stay there?) (Through the rest of the war) (In all this time, you haven't seen your father?) (No, sir) (Do you think that you'd know him after all these years?) (You know, you were just a young boy when you last saw him) (I'm sure I would, Mr. Bolton, a son always remembers his father) (Well, now, Siegbert, we want you to turn around and see if you know him) We describe the sensation As a tearing in our Chests and there is A quality In Feiburg's father's Post-war wail that reaches Through the world's worst speakers And beseeches Anyone who happens by On their way to somewhere else Clicking through the endless screens For the garbage on the shelves Reflections of ourselves- To consider the cost Of all this shit we seem to think Will fill our perforated souls We're more hole than human being Can't wash away that stink 13 billion years in the making A live, unfiltered moment An unscripted encroachment Upon the province of Routine evil All-too-human people So pious, so peaceful So quick to turn on you Thought I was fucking outta here Two middle fingers in the air Like a mile-wide meteor He came crashing through my door And that's just how it goes And everybody knows Ain't too much can be done All the avarice and greed And puny human hatreds That dare to come between two human hearts I try not to live in fear I'm truly grateful For every happy moment here Upstairs I hear her voice She softly singing To him and I come undone Something wicked this way comes And that's just how it goes And everybody knows Ain't too much can be done