“The words that make Murder. What if I take my problem to the United Nations?” a ironia duma génia.

“I’ve seen and done things I want to forget; I’ve seen a corporal whose nerves were shot
Climbing behind the fierce, gone sun, I’ve seen flies swarming everyone, Soldiers fell like lumps of meat.
These are the words, the words are these. death lingering, stunk, Flies swarming everyone,
Over the whole summit peak, Flesh quivering in the heat.
This was something else again. I fear it cannot be explained.
The words that make
Murder.
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?”
PJ Harvey

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