You thought you were in heaven but suddenly everything turns to change the yard is burning at the garden of eden and no one seems to care.
This is the year of silence this is our grave. This is the age of violence the end of the beautiful dream.
The blood of the innocents falls from the clouds It's the turn of the sun to burn our bones Look them pray, poor little clowns, in the line of death, they were the first ones.
This is the year of silence this is our grave. This is the age of violence the end of the beautiful dream.