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Last day of April of 1945 (nineteen forty-five).
The distressing taste of defeat is the spice of Hitler's meal.
The Russians are marching on some Berlim streets
while the Führer is searching the death to deal.

He is proud so doesn't want a shameful end,
like the body of his fascist little friend.
Poison, gun, gas and fire are ready to be used.
Dismay inside the Bunker!
Terror on the streets!
III Reich is coming down!
Poison to Eva and shot to Hitler!

Last day of the Führer!
A red thunder is coming!
Last day of the Führer!
The Russians are like angry dogs!

Vodka and revenge are the red army's fuel
to kill, to destroy, to rape everything that is found.
After the Hitler's shot in his own head
the fire turns to black his precious white skin.
The smoke of death in Berlin sky,
is not the smoke of the Josef's kind.
Sickle and the hammer are smashing the nazi dream

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