The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
The tanks roll in
And buildings burn.
The tanks roll in
And men shatter,
And women run to nowhere
With their crying babies.
The tanks roll in
And separates lovers,
Friends,
Family forever.
But who all remains
Will rise.
Who all remains
Are the strongest;
The ones selected by ‘warfare' selection.
Men and women will rise
Without tanks,
Or guns
Or muscular arms.
Men and women will rise
By the strength of their tears,
Their babies,
Their loved ones they'll never see again.
And they'll upturn tanks,
And take bullets without falling,
And shoot Hitlers before they can shoot themselves.
They'll rise
And the whole world will bow down to them.
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