The October sun
on the cooled ruins
no golden grain was raised from the ground
At night when I try to forget
from another room I hear
how they those who love the child
carry bloody water in buckets
The spirit, it flees
winter rises gray
cellars are empty
with downcast eyes< br/>I don't need to bow to the images
they carve of me
every calm and closed face
hides a screaming monster
Soul is a metal blast
hell from the ammunition factory (4x)
There is a man's last sigh
now that all the Holy has been given
stripped of feelings of dignity
withdrawn from the shores
The soul is a metal eruption
hell from the ammunition factory (8x)