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With all the other ‘lives that matter’, the ‘white lives’ soon lie widely scattered. Listen therefore to the song of the Trojan horse. It goes like this: Trojan horse, oh Trojan horse, you are so hungry and you are so thirsty.

Trojan horse, Trojan horse. Oh just give them enough American bread, porridge and sausage. Yes, just listen how the Trojan horse weeps. They call: In Afghanistan there are the Taliban and Isis, with us so cold and surly.

The Trojan horse slam themselves on the chest full of self-pity. They complain: Oh just look how they now mess with us. While almost all of them know: Soon the Muslim will be the king of the entire West.

Yes, with all the ‘other lives’ that ‘matter’, the white skin’s blood soon lie widely scattered. So, you yourself

oh West, is now eating the throw-away, burnt bread’s pitch-black crust. Give your last prime bread, porridge and sausage to your Trojan horse. Yes, you have failed yourself and therefore you are suspended of your Western culture.