We Are Germans

We always need a portrait on the wall. Without it any wall looks simply bare, the living room, the kitchen and the hall adorned by men of salt and pepper hair. Now I could be the Kaiser or young Adolf in suit, some older and wiser, even Mozart cum flute. It's the curse of our nation we must have on our walls, as a bold decoration not the portraits of dolls but of those who were chosen dressed in army attire, with a smile that is frozen but the eyes full of fire. You ask why such traditions, my reply be astute: Let those men call the missions, we are here to salute.