Hard as a stone under the sun, not even a bit of wind and nothing that moves, cold as ice in the heart full of hopes but devoid of illusions, I just want to have the satisfaction of seeing the faces of those who caused terror, pay for 50 years of tribulations that allow the Nazis to still run for office. I know that there are many hypocrites who cry when faced with scenes of deportation, and then think that everything is calm and when faced with fascists they cry crocodile tears. No, there is nothing more to tolerate, we cannot leave room for this mentality, the story can be found written but it is much better if you talk to those who have seen and remember the pain... Grandpa, grandpa , who knows how many stories you know who doesn't know anyone...
Grandpa, grandpa, tell me what you did when you were a boy, when there was brotherhood among the population. Land of conquest, there's no point in insisting, in the houses of the time there was nothing in the pots, I still remember when nothing was in colour, the ancient photos told of the hate and love of the faces of boys with rifles, one for someone who gave their life to fight the dictatorship... Story that they kept hidden from you, because it was inconvenient for some. Hard as a stone under the sun, it's not arrogance that gives me the belief that it's worrying that people don't know their own history and you can't understand those who pretend nothing happens... Who judge without knowing that it's It is they themselves who do the greatest damage.