The sun never shone
over the menacing blocks
of Berlin -- they had their
own lights inside,
so dim and weakened:
packed in the cement.
The hard edges never
really let the beams of light
to illuminate the external,
and angered by the fact;
the beams continued to
reflect from one wall to another.
This was a land of stone,
cold and hard and lifeless.
Each stone had the same look
on their faces -- solemn and judging,
reaching out to one's soul.
They screamed "Why?":
and man, what a scream it was,
so quietened by the soft hand
blocking the mouth
it had the sheer creepiness.
*Arcade Fire, Sprawl II.
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