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August Spies (December 10, 1855 – November 11, 1887) was an American anarchist activist and newspaper editor.
He was wrongfully accused to have been taken part in the Haymarket affair and was executed therefore.
Silent years under the ashen tree
Your face so wet to the touch
The night do pass so pleasantly
When there's fires to watch
The hail fell thicker with you away
The blood ran thicker too
We were left to bicker
With each and every day
All waiting on you
Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr hassen
Mit heissen Herzen
Each man has his own way
To mourn the passage of time
And it's the very fiber of our faith
This fleetingness drenched in wine
So let us live lightly on the land
Let us remain faithful to the earth
With none to obey
None to command
Pagan apostles of what's called absurd
Our verdict has long been pronounced
So the slower we move
The faster we die
Why remain sitting ducks for the hounds
Who will burn everything in sight
Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr hassen
Mit heissen Herzen
The silent years unter the ashen tree
Your face so wet to the touch
The nights do pass so pleasently
When there's fires to watch
The hail fell thicker with you away
The blood ran thicker too
We were left to bicker
With each and every day
All waiting on you
Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr Hassen
Mit heissen Herzen