2011, or a Knight of the Fail

Hey Andrew Lacoste, I say welcome to Hell
Playing killer games in your solitary cell
Mr. Coward, what went wrong with your head
A murderer of children, and still you aren't dead

On July 21st, I saw Gurnemanz mourn
In the ruins of '45, his uniform torn
Parsifal in Bayreuth, a Knight of the Grail
The Dictatorship defeated, a quest doomed to fail

A wedding in Norway, the conductor's hand beckoned
I flew out on July 22nd
Landed in Oslo at 15: 22
Three minutes later the Terror became true

Saw Government buildings going in smoke
I thought it was a video, it had to be a joke
Stayed in the airport, safe and at distance
Hardly a position that offers resistance

Dramatize the Untergang, don't we, my artist friends
That sweet sensation of an Angst that never ends
But all a sudden, the threat became real
Expanding ammunition made wounds that wouldn't heal

Hey Andrew Lacoste, I say welcome to Hell
Playing killer games in your solitary cell
Mr. Coward, what went wrong with your head
A murderer of children, and still you aren't dead

I thought it was a film, it couldn't be right
Terror took the form of a lunatic Knight
Disguised as a policeman he killed 77
That was Oklahoma, our September 11th

On the day two months after I lost my loved mother
Everything changed from one day to another
All of a sudden, my grief was ours
The young kept on dying, in spite of the powers

That tried to help them, but the evil was strong
And "you did this", O Heinous, the irreparable wrong
In the Nation of Tolerance, the end of a Pact:
People thought it was Islamist, Muslims were attacked
Hey Andrew Lacoste, I say welcome to Hell
Playing killer games in your solitary cell
Mr. Coward, what went wrong with your head
A murderer of children, and still you aren't dead

The Kingdom wept and protested with roses
I kept my uniform on and continued my poses
They gathered at Young's and sang children's songs
I kept listening to Burzum, unrepenting my wrong

To mother and daughter, to father and son:
I think Grief made us mad, each and every one
I had wept for four months and only felt rage
Gone were the days of the lyricist sage

I saw analysts grapple with Freedom of Expression
Using he massacre as a reason for Repression
I spoke out against them, here Justice ends
Not the kind of message that wins you new friends

2010, before everything went black
2010, now it's time to look back

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