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“Something better than death
we can find anywhere”
We are cannon fodder

A plastic bag on a shore
flowing back and forth
in a polluted shit of dawn

ein, zwai, the leaders order the men to gloriously die
ein, zwai, the leaders order their men to uselessly die

With the weight of a ton in your heart, sick, we’re living our lives
In a new epidemic of sorrow, everything is all right

ein, zwai, the victims fall to the mincer of amnesia
One by one, the victims leaving a helmet of nostalgia

A repeating sequence
Shadows in black and white
Unending chronicles of époques lost in time
And then a window hollow
A Freudian scene
An oceanic square with all my demons in uproar

ein, zwai, the victims fall to the Winter of amnesia
One by one, the victims losing their faith in God as they die
Are those a village lights or are they stars?
Are those the lights you brought me when I was beaten, fallen and drunk?

Are those the sparkles of your eyes?
Are these the borders of my time?

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