- (in music) a composition in which a theme is imitated and developed by successively entering voices
- (in psychology) a state of disassociation often accompanied by displacement
Black milk of dawn we drink it at dusk
we drink it mornings and noons we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we weave a shroud with the rubbledig a grave in the sky there is plenty of itroom
A man lives in the house he plays with his serpents he writes
he writes when it darkens in our People's landDeutschland your ravengolden hair MargalitMargarete
he writes it and steps outside the house to the blaze of stars
he whistles his Jewshounds he whistles his hawksJews fly graves in the skydig a grave in the ground
he commands us to take to our feetstrike up for the dance
Black milk of dawn we drink you at night
we drink you mornings and noons we drink you at dusk
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his serpents he writes
he writes when it darkens in our People's landDeutschland your ravengolden hair MargalitMargarete
your ashen hair SalmaShulamith we weave shrouds of rubbledig a grave in the sky
there is plenty of itroom
He shouts you there weave fasterdig deeper the rest of you crysing
you others fleeplay on
he raises the rod from his belt his eyes are blackblue
weave faster with your fingersdrive the spade deeper the rest of you crysing
you others take to your feetplay on for the dance
Black milk of dawn we drink you at night
we drink you mornings and noons we drink you at dusk
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your ravengolden hair MargalitMargarete
your ashen hair SalmaShulamith he plays with his serprents
He shouts make death cleanersound sweeter
death is a Master from our People's landDeutschland
he shouts cry a lot louderstrike the violin darker then turn intorise as smoke in the air
then a shroud on the grounda grave in the cloud there is so much more room
Black milk of mornings we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death is a Master from our People's landDeutschland
we drink you mornings and dusk we drink and drink
death is a Master from our People's landDeutschland his eye is blackblue
his lead bullets strike you his aim is true
a man lives in the house your ravengolden hair MargalitMargarete
he whistles his hawkshounds he grants us shrouds of rubblegraves in the sky
he plays with his serpents and he dreams
death is a Master of our People's landfrom Deutschland
your ravengolden hair MargalitMargarete
your ashen hair SalmaShulamith