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Here are those times recreated
By the brutal-force of sun-drenched images
The light of live - Tragedy
With the knowledge that all for which we lived
Was only a dream - Only a dream

The courtroom walls
The field of execution
The far off phantoms in a circle
Periphery of Rome
Bleached white in naked light
The shots - Our death - Our survival

All slaves, an immediate fate that’s worth a life
Young men pierced by so many tears
From every pore
From their eyes
From the roots of the hair to their own chest

Slaves of time
Slaves of these days
With the knowledge that all for which we lived
Was only a dream only a dream
Slaves of time
Slaves of these days
With the knowledge that all for which we lived
It wasn’t for real wasn’t for real

Here are those times recreated
As an horrid vision of their martyrdom
The light of live - Tragedy
Unjustified, unobjective
A source of solitary shameful tears

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