They caught us near the street, like deer that takes refuge to the dark
Always in our backs they snapped us in our weakest moments
With broken legs you can’t run that far, they’ll obtain you fast
And take aware to hear what they mean, cause usually they speak with knives
They speak with knives!

Voices sounding like an empty orchestra that plays the soundtrack of our lies
Every single note they bow or wind feels like a thorn in skin
In the end this journey was anything else but successful, one bridge too far
We searched for freedom and found nothing but a cold tomb!

At least we found nothing but a cold tomb!

To narrate retroperspectively
I never thought this trip could end up in chains
Somehow we always thought
That we’d be the arsonists that will set the world on fire!

We should be the arsonists that will set the world on fire!

And once again I’m calling the rain, to wash away this dry fields of grief
To wash away my bones and all I’ve ever feared
Everything I know for sure is that time’s a mirror itself
Somewhere along the way also the good times have to come to an end
Outside these walls I can see how night divides the day
And as the dawn falls I remember: Death always remained more perfect than life
After a while they screamed:
Give ‘em blades to dig up their own graves!
The dawn marked their beginning, the dawn marks the end
Give ‘em rope!