He ponders his old ideals at the window
A procession of orange revelers passes by
He hums inside the Internationale
A May he says out loud to the window: a May
For a lifetime he had propagated socialism
They knew him no differently: Rooie Kees
Now he drives passively in an invalid carriage
A sister pushes him, while he pulls from Drees
He sees himself that walking again for the first time
Wretched of the earth, who has not woken up for so long
No money to buy a suitable attribute
He had made a flag from red paper
And it was over, now no more delay
He was so obsessed with the last moment
That he allowed his life to be determined by events
As a result of which he never got around to happiness
The revolution unfortunately turned out not to be feasible
br/>It was as if the masses did not see the point of it
Prosperity became affordable for everyone too quickly
A May, hangover from Queen's Day
He reflects on his old ideals at the window
/>Smoldering dawn in the Evening Light House
The day of labor, no one comes to get him
He is alone and has succumbed to capital

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