Dresden
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Trumpets sounding, lies proscirius bells
Whistles of day
Death knells you heard so well
The rattle the snares of funeral drums
Brothers put up your left hands
Flags low flying under bridges rebuilt
By hands burnt to the bone
Farm folds haunted by those of the history's wolf
Of burning house and home
Brothers put up your left hands
No devil here exists
War torn families as strong as
Water and brick
There's a house on the hill
Windows black as nails
Picking through the ashes
No beginning, no end
No cause, no effect
No dark omen
Wrap the palms of your hands
Round the weapons built
By your brothers
Cut the cord and we'll rip
Half fellow man
Into pieces