.Blutend und gehüllt in Lumpen,
Die einst war'n mein Kampfgewand,
Schleppe ich mich über Leiber,
Die in Scherben ich vorfand.
Die Scherben schneiden tiefe Wunden.
Strafen meinen Hochmut tief.
Und es geiÃeln mich die Geister,
Die ich in finstren Zeiten rief.
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