Vienna,
old city of dust,
reckless, silent,
city of rust.
The fate of generations
down you thrust.
Children cry
and elders die,
even young mothers,
please, tell me why.
Bound in your arms
they’ll never fly…
You remain stagnant,
as ages pass by.
Your places grow thinner,
their faces grimmer,
mourning a long-gone faded glimmer.
Was it ever there?
I can’t imagine where…
Rotten corpses
and burnt down dome,
Death, truly,
is your only home.
Macha's Cave 