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(A) four years old child dies in the playground,
just an ordinary tragedy.
(But,) explain it to his dad, 'cause I can't.
I'm not (so) sure he wants to understand.

Nothing to say, (ooh)
when She comes, we move aside.
Maybe I should pray (ooh)
but I feel so cold inside.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Of course, what should we add?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
It is so plain'n'sad...

Plain'n'sad.

Hospital, somewhere.
Glass's a pale stain,
death a painless curtain.
While a man lays there
waits a child alone,
for a dad not coming home.

And the question is
always the same,
an useless:“why”?

It feels so wrong,
Maybe I should
at least write down a song...

I am so tired,
Lord.
So useless,
so
old.

Return

But I love so much
this human kind,
with all its (share of) pain.

I can't just sit
and wait to drain:
I'll write a dream for them...

I am so tired,
Lord.
So useless,
so
old.

Return

(There) must be a place,
road, field or lane,
where fathers and sons will meet again.
Down the river's bed,
to throw a stone
and say: “Hey dad!
...look what I have done”.

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