Chapter 13 no miracle

Today, as I lie in a nursing home bed, I often think about the kind of abilities that were so handy to me back then.It sends my voice into the cold night, melts ice, cuts open shop windows, and opens doors for thieves. For example, how much I now want to remove the glass of the peephole in the upper third of the door of the ward, so that Bruno, my orderly, can directly observe me. In the year before I was forced into a nursing home, my voice failed, and I was really distressed.In the street at night I cried out, eagerly expecting its effect, but in vain.At this time, I, who hated violence, picked up a stone and threw it at the window of a kitchen in a poor street on the outskirts of Düsseldorf. This kind of thing could have happened at that time.Especially when I met the decorator Vitra, how I wanted to show him some demonstration actions!It was often past midnight when I saw him.He stood behind the window of a men's fashion store on King's Boulevard or a cosmetics store near the former concert hall.His upper body was hidden by drapes, but I recognized him by his red and green wool socks.Although he is or may be my disciple, I still want to sing Broken Glass to him, because I still can't decide whether it is better to call him Judas or John.Vitra was of noble birth, and his name was Gottfried.I sang a few times, in vain, humiliating way, and tapped lightly on the undamaged window-pane to draw the decorator's attention to me.So he went out into the street and chatted with me for a quarter of an hour and laughed at his own decorative arts.At this time, I had to call him Gottfried, because my voice was no longer able to do wonders, and I was not qualified to call him John or Judas.

-------- ① Judas and John are both disciples of Jesus.Later Judas betrayed Jesus. That song I sang in front of the jewelry store made Jan Bronski a thief and Mama the owner of a ruby ​​necklace.Thereafter, I took a break from juggling my singing skills in front of windows displaying coveted items.Mom has become religious.What made her pious?The relationship with Jan Bronski, the stolen necklace, the sweet pain of an adulterous woman, made her devout, made her more lustful after the sacrament.It is easy to memorize a running account of the crimes committed.On Thursday, meet in the city, leave little Oscar with Markus, go to the carpenter's alley for a tryst, most of the fun, then go to the Weizke Cafe to drink mocha and eat pastries, and pick up little Oscar from the Jew. My son, at the kindness of Marcus, bought a sack of silk for almost nothing.Back at the No. 5 tram station, my mother smiled and enjoyed the drive, but her mind was lost.She rode the tram past the Oliva Gate, crossed the Hindenburger Allee, and hardly glanced at the May Meadow next to the gymnasium where Matzerath spent his morning hours on Sundays.When the tram turned around the gymnasium, she gritted her teeth and endured it—it was just a joy, but seeing this square box-shaped building, can you not be disgusted?The tram turned to the left again, and behind the dusty trees, Conrad School and elementary school students wearing red hats appeared - if you saw little Oscar standing there wearing a little red hat embroidered with a golden "C", what would you think? How cute it is!He was twelve and a half years old, in the third grade if he was going to school, and was starting Latin now, and he must be a veritable Conrad school boy, hardworking and a little pompous.

After passing the passage under the dry bridge of the railway, when the tram headed towards the Imperial Colony and the Helen Lange School, Mrs. Agnes Matzerath was still thinking about the Conrad School, and she was still thinking about it. She thinks about her young son Oscar's missed opportunities.The tram turned left again, passing the Christ Church with its onion-shaped spire and the Max Halbe Square, and we got off at the entrance of the Kaiser Grocery Store.Mom glanced at the window of her competitor and trudged into Rue Labes as if towards the place where Christ had been crucified: ill-tempered again, deformed child by the hand , guilt, the need to recover from fatigue, dissatisfaction and boredom, both disgust and love for Matzerath.Under the torment of this complex emotion, my mother held me with a new drum in her hand, and took a small package of silk thread that was almost a free gift, and walked across Labes Road towards the store, towards the cereal and the herring keg kerosene, currants, raisins, almonds, gingerbread spice, baking powder invented by Dr. Gee's and Knauer's soup stock, Catalina's and Hager's coffee, Vitello's and Palmin's margarine, Qurney's vinegar and assorted jams, to the two sweet sticks of flypaper , the flies that stick to it make buzzing sounds with different vocal ranges.That's what my mom hangs above the counter and changes every two days in the summer.And she herself, with an equally sweet heart, goes to the Sacred Heart every Saturday, three hundred and sixty days a year, hot and cold, to induce a humming sin, Holy ① repentance.

-------- ①The respectful title of the priest. Just as my mother took me into town every Thursday and made me a so-called accomplice, so she took me through the church doors and onto the cold, Catholic tiles every Saturday.She tucked the drum in my pullover or overcoat beforehand, because I wouldn’t do it without a drum, and I would never touch my forehead, chest, and shoulders to draw a Catholic cross without an iron sheet in front of my belly. , and kneel on the ground on one knee as if wearing a shoe, I will never sit peacefully on a polished church pew and let the holy water on the bridge of my nose dry slowly.

Regarding the Sacred Heart Church, I still remember everything from the day I was baptized.I got into trouble since they gave me a non-Christian name.At the church gate, my parents insisted on the name Oscar, and my godfather Jan sang the same tune.So His Majesty Wienke blew three breaths on my face. It is said that this can drive away the Satan in my heart. measure.Once inside the church, we stood again in front of the real baptismal choir.I was very quiet while the Creed and the Lord's Prayer were read to me.Afterwards, His Majesty Wienker read "Satan is gone" again.He touched Oscar's nose and ears, thinking that this would enlighten me, but in fact I was born sensible.Then, wanting to hear me speak clearly and loudly, he asked, "Do you forsake Satan? Do you forsake all his works? Do you forsake all that he flaunts?"

-------- ① That is the devil. Before I could shake my head - because I didn't want to give up - Jan said "I give up" three times on my behalf.I didn't say anything to disown Satan, His Majesty Wienker anointed my chest and between my shoulders.When we got to the baptismal font, they read the creed again, and finally they dipped me in water three times, anointed my scalp with holy oil, put me in a white robe, and prepared to stain it later, and then Gave a candle to be lit in the dark day, and dismissed at last.Matzerath paid.A taxi waited in sunny to cloudy weather as Jan carried me through the gates of the Sacre Coeur.I asked Satan who was possessed in my body, "Has everyone withstood it?"

-------- ① Catholic term, refers to the end of the ceremony. Satan jumped a few times and said in a low voice, "Did you see the windows of the church, Oscar? It's all glass, all glass!" The Church of the Sacred Heart was built during the period of corporate abuse, and is therefore neo-Gothic in style.Because it is built with bricks that quickly darken in color, the copper covering the spire quickly develops a layer of patina, which makes it look very old.Thus, the difference between Gothic and late Gothic brick churches can only be recognized by connoisseurs and displeasing to them.However, no matter the church is old or new, the way to listen to the confession is the same.Like His Majesty Wienker, hundreds of His Majesty sat in the auditorium after offices and shops closed on Saturdays, with their hairy priest's ears stuck to a shiny, frayed ear. On the black grid, the parishioners managed to thread that thread of sin—sins strung one after another like cheap pearls—through the barbed wire and into the priest's ear.

-------- ① refers to the period of false prosperity of the German economy from 1871 to 1873 after the German-French War. My mother reported to the head of the only church that can save the world what she did, what she thought but did not do, and her thoughts through the listening channel of Her Majesty Wink, according to the questions listed in the "Confession Proverbs" , speech and behavior.Then, with no repentance left, I slipped from the too-smooth church pew and stood on the brick floor. I confess that the tile floors in Catholic churches, the smells in Catholic churches, and the whole of Catholic teaching still fascinate me inexplicably to this day, like a red-haired girl, although I would like to dye her red hair into a different color; and I confess that Catholicism has always fed me with blasphemous inspirations, and these god-reading inspirations have shown again and again that I have been irrevocably, though uselessly, Catholicly baptized.Often in the midst of some pointless process, like brushing my teeth or even having a bowel movement, I suddenly find myself making up the commentary for Mass: at High Mass, Christ bled again, and the blood flows out to wash you, This is the chalice of his blood, and when the blood of Christ is poured out, the wine becomes real blood, and the real blood of Christ is in sight, and at the sight of the holy blood, the soul is sprinkled with the blood of Christ, precious The blood of Christ, cleansing with blood, blood flowed at the incarnation, bloody veil, the voice of Christ's blood permeates the heavens, and before God the blood of Christ emits a fragrance.

I have to admit that I still retain a more or less Catholic accent.I used to have no patience to wait for a tram unless the Virgin Mary was on my mind.I call her Loving, Blessed, Blessed, Virgin of Virgins, Mother of Great Compassion.You blessed one, you worthy of all honour, you who gave birth to him, sweet mother, virgin mother, glorious virgin, let me taste the sweetness of the name of Jesus, as you in you As this mother's heart has tasted, it is truly worthy and just, deserved and beneficial, Queen, blessed, blessed... Sometimes, especially when my mother took me to the Sacred Heart Church every Saturday, the word "blessed" was so sweet to my heart, but it also poisoned me.So I thank Satan, who is still in me after baptism, for supplying me with an antidote that allows me to walk straight across the brick floor of the Sacre Coeur in blasphemy.Jesus - the heart of which the church is named - appears not only in the sacrament, but also several times in small polychrome paintings in the cloister of the cross, and three times in the form of polychrome statues in different poses .

Among them is a painted plaster statue.Jesus stands on a golden pedestal, with long hair draped over his shoulders, wearing a Prussian blue robe and sandals.He unbuttoned his robe, exposed his chest, and unnaturally pulled out a tomato-red, prettified, bloody heart from the center of his chest.In this way, this church can be named after this organ. The first time I saw this disembodied Jesus, I immediately concluded that this savior was like my godfather, cousin and imaginary father, Jan Bronski.Look at those blue eyes with innocent confidence and dreamy expression!This kissing mouth ready to howl, like a rose in bloom!Such masculine pain that frowns!Plump, flushed cheeks waiting to be spanked!It's exactly the same!They both had that seductive slapped mouth and a pair of weary, womanly delicate hands, uncrafted and well-maintained, which exhibited the work of Christ like the work of a jeweler working for the prince's court. trauma.Bronski's eyes made me think he was my father, and now those eyes are painted on the face of Christ, which makes me very troubled.For I too have those blue eyes which inspire enthusiasm but not confidence.Oscar turned away from the heart of Jesus on the right side of the nave, and walked quickly from the first station of the corridor of the cross, where Jesus took up the cross, to the seventh station, where he fell to the ground for the second time due to overwhelmed load ①, and then walked to the main altar, on which hung another full-body statue of Jesus.This Jesus closed his eyes, perhaps due to excessive fatigue, perhaps in order to exert his last strength.Look at the man's muscles!When I saw the figure of this decathlete, I immediately forgot about Sacred Heart Bronski.Whenever my mother confessed to Wienker, I stood in front of the altar and watched the athlete intently.You'll think I'm praying.I call him the amiable athlete, the athlete's athlete, the world champion of the sport of being nailed to a cross with prescribed-sized nails.He doesn't twitch, doesn't shake.Eternal Light is still shaking, but he has completed the project with the highest score.The stopwatch ticked.People are counting his time.In the sacristy, the decree of the Mass was already wiping with his dirty hands the gold medal that was to be awarded to him.But Jesus didn't play sports for glory.I immediately thought of faith.I get down on my knees whenever my knees will allow, make the sign of the cross on my drum, and try to put words like "blessed" or "suffering" on par with Jesse Owens and Rudolf Habisch. ② linked to the Olympic Games held in Berlin the previous year; however, I cannot do this every time, because I have to point out that the contest between Jesus and the two thieves ③ was not fair , so he had to be disqualified from the competition.Turning to the left, I saw the third statue of the celestial athlete in the nave of the Sacre Coeur, and a new hope arose.

-------- ①Here refers to the group of paintings of Jesus carrying the cross to the place of crucifixion, generally called "Fourteen Crucifixes". ②Owens is an African-American athlete who won four gold medals in the long jump, 100m, 200m and 400m relay at the 36th Olympic Games; Habig is a German athlete who won 400m and 800m and 1,000-meter world champion. ③ Refers to the two criminals who were crucified together with Jesus. "The third time I saw you, I prayed first." I stammered, and found the square brick floor with the soles of my shoes, and walked towards the altar on the left according to the squares of the chessboard.I feel every step I take, he is watching you, the saints are watching you.There was Peter, who was crucified with his head thrown down;In addition, there is a Greek cross next to the Latin or crucifixion.Depicted on clothing, pictures and books, there are double crosses, Teutonic crosses, and the cross of Christ's crucifixion.I saw claw crosses, anchor crosses, and cloverleaf crosses in relief.The Griffin cross is beautiful, the Maltese cross is coveted, the hooked cross has been banned, the de Gaulle cross, the Lorraine cross, which was called St Anthony's cross in naval battles, the "T" cross, the executioner's cross on a chain , unsightly thieves cross, papal cross, Russian cross aka Lazarus cross.There is also the Red Cross.The alcohol-free sign is the blue cross.The yellow cross poisoned you, the cruiser scuttled itself, the crusaders converted me, the cross-striped spiders devoured each other, I missed you at the crossroads, criss-cross, both parties questioned witnesses, crosswords said: solve me!I was so tired that my waist was sore and my back was hurting. I turned my back to the cross and the movement on the cross. I risked being kicked in the back by him, because I was walking towards the virgin Mary, who was holding the child Jesus with one hand. on her right thigh. -------- ①Peter, whose real name was Simon, was brothers with Andrew, and both were disciples of Christ. ② Refers to the Nazi Party logo. ③From the beginning of "cruiser", the original German words all contain "Kreuz" ("cross"), which is a word game, but they are all words that often appear at that time and are related to military and politics. Oscar stood in front of the altar on the left side of the left transept.The facial expression of Maria, his mother must have had it in the past, when she was seventeen years old and worked as a shop assistant in Troyer, because she had no money to buy movie tickets, so she had to look at the poster of the film starring Asta Nelson. Wang Mei quenches thirst, empathy. She wasn't interested in Jesus, but was looking at another boy on her right knee, let me say his name to avoid misunderstanding!He is John the Baptist.The two boys were as tall and short as I was.But Jesus looked two centimeters taller, even though according to the Bible he was younger than the Baptist.Making the three-year-old messiah a naked, pink figure must have entertained the sculptor.Since John was going into the desert later, he was wearing a chocolate-colored shaggy fur covering half his chest, belly and "watering can". -------- ① John the Baptist, a character in the Bible, a prophet who preached in the desert, baptized Jesus in the Jordan River, and was later killed by King Herod. Oscar really shouldn't be close to these two children, it's better to stand in front of the main altar or stay freely beside the confessional.The eyes of these two children are frighteningly similar to Oscar's, and they are also quite precocious.They had blue eyes, of course, too, and his chestnut hair.All that was missing was that the sculptor hadn't cut off their stupid spirals and left them with a crew cut like Oscar. I don't want to mess with that baptist boy.He pointed to the boy Jesus with the index finger of his left hand, as if he was about to say the urgent command of the counting game: "I and you, Müller's cow..." I ignored this, but looked at Jesus carefully and concluded that he Looks exactly like me.He could be my twin brother.Not only was his figure similar to mine, but even the "watering can" that was only used for urinating at that time was no different from mine.It was my diamond-blue Bronski eyes through which he saw the world, and what annoyed me the most was his sign language. This Jesus, my picture, raised his arms and clenched his hands loosely into fists, just enough to fit something, say, my drum stick.If the sculptor fashioned a red and white drum out of plaster on his pink thigh, wouldn't he be me?Oskar, perfect, sat on the lap of the virgin and beat the drum to call the congregation of the Church.There are some things in this world—sacred as they are—that people just don't let happen! Walking up the three steps covered with a carpet, there are virgins in silver and green clothes, John in chocolate fur, and the boy Jesus with a complexion like boiled ham.There was an altar of the Virgin with anemic white candles and flowers of various prices.The green Virgin, the brown John and the pink Jesus all have plate-sized auras glued to the backs of their heads.The gold leaf affixed to them makes the three plates even more expensive. If there were no steps in front of the altar, I would never go up.Staircases, doorknobs, and shop windows were alluring to Oskar back then, and not indifferent to him even today, when he wants nothing more than a hospital bed.He was lured up step by step, always stepping on the same carpet.Oscar approached the three statues on the small altar of the Virgin, and knocked them with his knuckles in half contempt and half respect.He scratched it with his fingernail, revealing the true color of the plaster statue.The pleats of the virgin's garments follow her form, curving to the toes that tread on the cloud bands.The faintly visible lines of the virgin's tibia make people speculate that the sculptor first shaped the flesh, and then joined the lines of the body to add the folds of the clothes.The "watering can" of the boy Jesus was not circumcised, which is a big mistake.Oscar reached out to touch it, and pressed it carefully, trying to make it move, but felt that his "watering can" had a sense of harassment that was half comfortable and half novel, so I withdrew my hand and stopped touching his. , and I hope Jesus will stop touching me. As for whether Jesus was circumcised or not, I will not delve into it any further.I took the drum out from under my sweater, took it off his neck, and hung it around Jesus' neck, taking care not to damage his aura.It was a bit of a struggle because I was so short that I had to climb up on the statue and step on the cloud belt that was the base so Jesus could have a drum to beat on. Oscar did it not in January 1936, on his first church day since his baptism, but in the week before Easter that same year.Throughout the winter his mother kept her relationship with Jan Bronski alive through confession.Therefore, Oscar had plenty of time to think over his plan, denying and affirming it, denouncing it as unreasonable and arguing it as justified, drawing up a new plan, explaining it from various angles, and finally, abandoning all the old plans and changing them to the one before Easter. On Monday, I used the opportunity of silent prayer in front of the fourteen crucifixes to carry out my plan.As my mother was eager to go to confession before Easter business peaked, she took my arm and headed out on Easter Monday night, along Labes Road, off New Market Street, Elson Street, and then Go to Mary Street, pass the Wogelmut Butcher's, turn left along Little Hammer Park, pass through the dry bridge hole of the railway where there is always a disgusting yellow soup dripping down, to the Church of the Sacred Heart opposite the railway embankment, and enter the gate. We are late.Only two old ladies and a frightened young man were left waiting in front of the confessional.While Mom checked her conscience—she licked her thumb wet and flipped through Proverbs of the Confession like a ledger, as if she were making up a tax return—I slid off the oak stool and avoided looking at the heart of Jesus and the jock , go straight to the altar on the left. Although it must be done without delay, I still had to sing the altar in accordance with the Mass, and climbed the three steps, "to the altar of the Lord", ① towards the Lord who gave me joy from childhood.I took the drum off my neck, and while I drew out "Lord have mercy," I mounted the cloud belt that served as a pedestal, and instead of touching the "watering can" to avoid delay, I sang "Glory be to you." Lord of Heaven", hung the drum around Jesus' neck, carefully not to damage the aura circle, lowered the cloud belt, and sang "Remission, forgiveness and forgiveness".But before I do that, I stick my drum stick into Jesus' right-sized fist, one, two, three, down the stairs, "I look up at the mountains," and then over a carpet, onto the upper brick floor, where there's a A small stool for praying for Oscar.Kneeling on a small cushion, he raised the hands of the drummer in front of his face, praying with palms together—"Glory be to the Lord of heaven"—and looked from the folded hands to Jesus and his drum, expecting a miracle: he beat Come on.Does he know how to knock or is he not allowed to knock?He's either beating the drums or he's not the real Jesus.If he still doesn't beat the drums, then he is fake and Oscar is the real Jesus. -------- ①The quotation marks here are all the scriptures of the Mass. Whoever wants to see miracles must be good at waiting.Well, I waited, I was patient at first, maybe not enough, because the longer I kept repeating the verse "all eyes are on you, Lord" - He also replaced the word "eye" with "ear"—Oscar, who was kneeling on the small cushion, was even more disappointed.Although he provided the Lord with various opportunities and closed his eyes, so that Jesus would not have to be afraid of being unskilled at the beginning, but made up his mind to strike without anyone watching, but in the end, after singing the third time Creed, Father, Creator, seen and unseen, only begotten Son, from the Father, true Son of the true Father, begotten of the Father and not made by the Father, one with the Father, through him, for We the world and our salvation came down from heaven, received, expelled, incarnated, for us, who lived in us, was buried, rose again, ascended, sat at the right hand of the Father, returned to the Father, the dead, die not, I believe , who is with the Father, who speaks through him, I believe in the One, Holy, Catholic… No, the Catholic Creed survives only in my palate.There is no longer any belief.Even if it's the smell, I'm not interested anymore.I need something else.I need to hear my tin rattle.Jesus should come up with some tricks for me to hear.Even if the sound is very small, it is still a small miracle!I didn't ask him to make a loud noise like thunder, so frightened the deputy priest Laschea rushed to the scene of the accident, and even His Majesty Wienker dragged his fat body to witness the miracle, and then sent a A report was sent to the diocese of Oliva, who in turn sent the certificate to the Vatican.No, I don't have that ambition.Oscar does not want to be called a saint, listed in the canon of the Bible.All he asked was for Jesus to perform a small miracle in private, for him to hear or see something, to determine once and for all whether Oscar was drumming for or against, and to reveal that the two figures were exactly the same size and They are all blue-eyed children, who should call themselves Jesus in the future. I sat and waited, but I couldn't help worrying that Mom was in the confessional and might have finished reciting the sixth commandment.The old man who was always staggering up and down the church shuffled weakly and unsteadily past the main altar, and finally by the left altar, saluting the Virgin and the two boys.He might have seen the drum, but he didn't know how.He shuffled over, looking older as he walked. -------- ①The Ten Commandments of Christianity, the sixth commandment is not to commit adultery. Time is ticking, but Jesus is not beating the drum.I heard the voice of the choir.I can't help worrying, I hope nobody plays the organ.If they start rehearsing for Easter, the organ blaring will drown out Jesus' low-breathing drums, if he does strike at all. Luckily no one was playing the organ.But Jesus didn't beat the drum either.No miracles occurred.So I got up from the cushion, my knees creaked, and stepped on the carpet, distracted and dejected, and walked up step by step, ignoring the familiar prayers and climbing up the plaster plaster. Cloud belt, throwing some mid-priced flowers on the ground, all he wants is to get my drum back from that stupid shirtless kid. Not only do I say this today, but I also say it often and repeatedly: trying to teach him something is a mistake in itself.I really don't know how I came up with this idea.I took the drum sticks off, and the drum was still on him, and I tapped lightly to show the false Jesus, then I beat like an impatient teacher, and then I tucked the sticks in again. Go into Jesus' hands and give him a chance to prove that he has learned a little bit from Oscar. I was about to disregard the aura to take the tin drum from the most stubborn student in the world, and the moment I took the stick from his hand, His Majesty Wienke was standing behind me—because my drum had already It spread to every corner of the church—the curate Laschea was behind me, and my mother was behind me, and the old man was behind me.The curate pulled me down, the priest slapped me, and my mother burst into tears.His Majesty Wienker whispered to me, and the curate curtsied first, then climbed up and took the drum stick from Jesus' hand.Holding the drum stick in his hand, he bowed his knees again, climbed up again, took the drum off Jesus, broke the aura circle, bumped into his "watering can", stepped on a piece of the cloud belt, knelt down, and walked away. Go down the stairs and kneel down again.He didn't want to give me the drum back, which annoyed me more than ever, and made me kick the priest and embarrass my mother.She was so ashamed herself that I kicked and bit and scratched, and then I broke free from the hands of the priest, the curate, the old man, and the mother, and ran to the altar.At this moment, I felt Satan jumping on me, and heard him whispering to me again as on my baptism day: "Oscar, look, there are windows all around, all glass, all glass!" I sang, and over the head of the untwitching and silent athlete on the cross, I sang to the three windows in the upper apse of the church, red, yellow, and green on a blue background. There are twelve apostles.My target was neither Mark nor Matthew, but the dove over their heads, which swooped down to celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit.I aimed at the Holy Spirit, trilled, and used my diamond against the bird.Is it my mistake?Was it the athlete who protested because he didn't twitch?Is this a miracle that no one understands?They watched me trembling and breathing silently into the apse, and everyone except my mother thought I was praying and I was going to sing about broken glass.But Oscar didn't make it, and this wasn't his time to shine.I lay down on the tile floor and wept bitterly, because Jesus was dead, and Oscar was dead, because His Majesty and Raschia had misunderstood me, and when they saw me like this, they talked nonsense and I regretted it.Only my mother didn't disappoint me.She knew why I was crying, though she must be secretly glad that the glass didn't shatter. Mother picked me up, asked the curate to return the drum and sticks, promised His Majesty compensation for the damage, and asked him to supply me with a pardon for interrupting the confession; even Oskar was blessed.But it doesn't matter to me. On the way out of the Sacre Coeur in my mother's arms, I counted on my fingers: Today is Easter Monday, tomorrow is Tuesday, Wednesday, Foot Thursday, Good Friday, that guy is fucked, he can't beat the drums , nor give me the pleasure of singing broken glass.He is exactly like me, but a fake.He must go to the grave, and I go on beating the drum, go on beating the drum, but ask no more for miracles. -------- ①The Friday before Easter.