waltz - Popular Poems and stories from category

In Vienna there are ten little girls,a shoulder for death to cry on,and a forest of dried pigeons
There is a fragment of tomorrowin the museum of winter frost
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall
Ay, ay, ay, ay

I touch hatred like a covered breast;
I without stopping go from garment to garment,sleeping at a distance
I am not,
I'm of no use,