| Silent years under the ashen tree
|
| Your face so wet to the touch
|
| The night do pass so pleasantly
|
| When there’s fires to watch
|
| The hail fell thicker with you away
|
| The blood ran thicker too
|
| We were left to bicker
|
| With each and every day
|
| All waiting on you
|
| Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr hassen
|
| Mit heissen Herzen
|
| Each man has his own way
|
| To mourn the passage of time
|
| And it’s the very fiber of our faith
|
| This fleetingness drenched in wine
|
| So let us live lightly on the land
|
| Let us remain faithful to the earth
|
| With none to obey
|
| None to command
|
| Pagan apostles of what’s called absurd
|
| Our verdict has long been pronounced
|
| So the slower we move
|
| The faster we die
|
| Why remain sitting ducks for the hounds
|
| Who will burn everything in sight
|
| Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr hassen
|
| Mit heissen Herzen
|
| The silent years unter the ashen tree
|
| Your face so wet to the touch
|
| The nights do pass so pleasently
|
| When there’s fires to watch
|
| The hail fell thicker with you away
|
| The blood ran thicker too
|
| We were left to bicker
|
| With each and every day
|
| All waiting on you
|
| Mit heissen Herzen sollt ihr Hassen
|
| Mit heissen Herzen |