On an angry hill, the moaning wind fades the flowers of rage
You answer faint voices of children in the farthest land
From sinfully shining machines,
Fake day and unmerciful fire are spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and kill the wind
Birds overhead keep moaning as if they are questioning
Do you abandon your identity of being human?
Is there no hope in your weakly shivering heart?
Declarations are spread out far and wide
Forged justice and derisive fire are spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and fall the birds
With closing eyes you sink deeply into your steep mind
You, a wise shadow, stand on the furiously angry hill
Can you hear?
The sound of children in the farthest land are burned
It never stops on the hill of yours with the high mind
Sing for the children in the farthest land
They endure on the ground face down
and look up to the sky in envy for the tomorrow they are missing
From sinfully shining machines,
Perjurious principle and untold blood is spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and kill the song
The sound of the mothers in the farthest land are shot
Write it down filling walls of yours with high mind
Can you hear?
The sound of the children in the farthest land are burning
It never stops on the hill of yours with a high mind
Can you hear?
The sound of the mothers in the farthest land are shot
It never stops on this earth of yours with a high mind.
You answer faint voices of children in the farthest land
From sinfully shining machines,
Fake day and unmerciful fire are spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and kill the wind
Birds overhead keep moaning as if they are questioning
Do you abandon your identity of being human?
Is there no hope in your weakly shivering heart?
Declarations are spread out far and wide
Forged justice and derisive fire are spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and fall the birds
With closing eyes you sink deeply into your steep mind
You, a wise shadow, stand on the furiously angry hill
Can you hear?
The sound of children in the farthest land are burned
It never stops on the hill of yours with the high mind
Sing for the children in the farthest land
They endure on the ground face down
and look up to the sky in envy for the tomorrow they are missing
From sinfully shining machines,
Perjurious principle and untold blood is spun out
like a rumbling avalanche
They bury the voices and kill the song
The sound of the mothers in the farthest land are shot
Write it down filling walls of yours with high mind
Can you hear?
The sound of the children in the farthest land are burning
It never stops on the hill of yours with a high mind
Can you hear?
The sound of the mothers in the farthest land are shot
It never stops on this earth of yours with a high mind.
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