Eric Hoffer (July 25, 1902 – May 21, 1983) was an American social writer. He was the author of ten books and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in February 1983. His first book, The True Believer, published in 1951, was widely recognized as a classic, receiving critical acclaim from both scholars and laymen, although Hoffer believed that his book The Ordeal of Change was his finest work. In 2001, the Eric Hoffer Award was established in his honor with permission granted by the Eric Hoffer Estate in 2005.
Hoffer was born in the Bronx, New York City in 1902, the son of Elsa (née Goebel) and Knut Hoffer, a cabinetmaker. His parents were immigrants from Alsace. By the age of five, he could read in both German and English. When he was age five, his mother fell down a flight of stairs with Eric in her arms. Hoffer went blind for unknown medical reasons two years later, but later in life he said he thought it might have been due to trauma, commenting "I lost my sight at the age of seven. Two years before, my mother and I fell down a flight of stairs. She did not recover and died in that second year after the fall.I lost my sight and for a time my memory". After his mother's death he was raised by a live-in relative or servant, a German woman named Martha. His eyesight inexplicably returned when he was 15. Fearing he would again go blind, he seized upon the opportunity to read as much as he could for as long as he could. His eyesight remained, and Hoffer never abandoned his habit of voracious reading.
Leave me alone with your should have been could have
been there
I've got a place for your guilt - and it's called
insight
Some dark secrets got their secret place like they
should have
Some dark secrets are at least - far from being safe
It happened here where the sea's grey - cold summer
Reminding us we're all just on the way
Don't mock at us with the sight of what we might know
Who lit this fire here and left us all alone
Did you see this - pictures of that war
In colour - seems not that far
And it drives me - around the bend
I'm ashamed for
I'm ashamed for my land
You planned to live - planned to run and to get out of
here
Now choose to starve, suffocate or maybe bleed to death
Eating a horse - with a friend was like dinner for two
It may have died - one or two weeks ago
You can't sleep, hate to eat and wake up with a start
Let's shake some hands in a land where the past is dark
Don't mock at us with the sight of what we might know
Who lit this fire here and left us all alone
Chorus ...
Take the trapdoor to my head