You can hear their steps are talking
Nearly feel the breath of what their thinking
Drown faces crowling in the mudd
Remembering their childhood

Bridge: It´s a bumping road that you jog along
The sun was high in the sky then it turns black
It´s not only a song where my words maybe wrong
Not only ink on paper, but a god damn bloody river
Twisted like a storm, there were 18 I was born
I feel myself alone
You lose your family, you lose your dignity
´Cause war is game of high society

Voices are crying
Voices are dying

One voice in the distance
To frighting you out of your senses
and in the meshes
And finally be reduced to ashes