“But that is who we are,
that is where we come from.
We are the offspring
of metropolitan annihilation
and destruction,
of the war of all against all,
of the conflict of each individual
with every other individual,
of a system governed by fear,
of the compulsion to produce,
of the profit of one to
the detriment of others,
of the division of people into men
and women, young and old,
sick and healthy,
foreigners and Germans,
and of the struggle for prestige.

Where do we come from?
From isolation in individual row-houses,
from the suburban concrete cities,
from prison cells,
from the asylums and special units,
from media brainwashing,
from consumerism,
from corporal punishment,
from the ideology of nonviolence,
from depression,
from illness,
from degradation,
from humiliation,
from the debasement
of human beings,
from all the people
exploited
by imperialism.”

Hymn to the Bankers by Erich Kastner

He may rejoice and be content 
Who does not know these men. 
They borrow gold at five per cent 
And lend it out at ten. 

They're never shocked by what they see. 
Their heart is never still. 
Their product is discrepancy 
(Interpret as you will.) 

Their appetite is fathoms deep. 
They feed and dominate. 
They never sow, they only reap 
And let their gold gestate. 

Sorcerers in human form 
They charm from empty hands. 
They make their fortunes on the phone 
And petrol from the sands. 

Whether gold is scarce or sure 
They still make what they need 
And slit the throats of others; for 
The paper makes them bleed. 

They swear by the rule of three 
So have no need to pray. 
For God they have some sympathy 
Though they love gold more easily. 
(But they all go bust one day.)