The sun cuts like a laser
from the clear sky
straight through the chilling cold air
down over the bright concrete walls
and ends as a mosaic of spots
between the black holes of the shadows
The rays are reflected for a moment in the sign of the construction company
"Soul Enterprises - Access forbidden"
and they escape up past the red lines of the two brick towers
who stretch directly towards the darkness of space
that we know hides behind the blue sky
The Lighthouse suburb lies quietly in the morning
like a stain of jerry-building
Tries to compete with the spires of secrets
with the ability to throw light where darkness should reign
and change all natural shades to grotesque bastards
And the people in the empty city
curse their luck
and are vexed at the humiliation their fate has brought them
Look up at the spires and the rotating tips
scowl for a moment before they with a hidden gesture
show their contempt of the bricks
who concrete people don't understand
Forced to a celibacy of energy
right next to the ultimate phallism
they peer out through doors and alleys
before they - after a moment of hesitation - gather their courage and run towards the towers
And the towers stumble, shake and fall as the first human hand touches them
As if the columns of the sky suddenly disappeared
they now lie at the feet of people who do not understand
Brick upon brick full of colourful life, energy, will and faith
are collected as trophies
and brought home with pride, they are placed on the television
as a luminous monument to human pettiness
