Last words of confidence still penetrate the cannonthunder, so many daring
dreams will fall, the vision of a better world dies in the bombingrain. No
time to say farewell, the world shall hear about their fight. Betrayed by

spineless servants, conspiracies - so many heroes shot from behind. No
thoughts of giving in, no stampede - no more negotiating. This desesperate
fight will set a sing - they died with the gun in their hands. Time will
avenge one day. The sky is colored red by the martyr´s blood, the same sky
under which. The victors marching in again, bringing back the slavery, the
oldest order, under rule again - it´s been too early, but they shall rise
again. If it all came down to me, would I shed my blood for what I lived
for? Would I clench my fist until the last breath?