> I said, I'm a spy in the house of death,
> and I sing along as they shake their sheets.
> I'll harmonize your last breath, baby,
> and I won't miss a single beat.
And a voice answered saying,
"You are an aerial hung up to the Divine,
You are a beach for the waves of the world to crash on,
You are the spilt wine...
You are the spilt wine at the table of the gods."
- shriekback, "Berlin"