How you handle a crisis unveils your meddle.
Our nerves are shot from the steady bombardment.
We barely shut our eyes and when we do it's in a blink.
Lance Corporal Helmut Peters has had enough.
He defects to the other side waving his draws,
the coward's flag of truce. He'll see his.
Who would have guessed Die Meistersinger
would be played by a band of roving Mongolians
jumping around like apes.
The Russians are at the gate. The hour is now
to suicide or have our body juices ravaged
by lesser men.
Who knew it would end this way
after such an auspicious, non Jewish beginning?
Who knew, not I.
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