I dreamed of thousands of bodies raining,
falling like bombs straight to their graves.
Manna coming from heaven just to feed grief.
Fields covered with the glorious corpses
of all the believers broken under the wheels,
Meat for the dogs and compost to the soil.
Nothing else
No valhallas, no glory,
no god was here to see
how the young blood
is the one best bleeds
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
´till all the graves are digged
and the deserts are painted in red
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
So be it.
More!, more!, never enough!
and the leftovers pile up in massgraves..
Bodies rotting, life sprouting.
Stems crawling silent
to the throats of the murderers.
as the young blood is the one best bleeds
(how the young blood is the one which best bleeds)
and how when mankind lie down with hatred
the earth awakes with hunger.
(when mankind awake with hatred
the earth satisfies its hunger)
you will find the honour
running down the pants of a soldier
holding his own guts
while cries for his mother
The air breaks the bones
moulding grotesque lifeforms.
The air shattered their bones as dry branches
(moulding grotesque lifeforms, mere wrecks)
to feed the open mouths scattered
over the surface of the earth.
I look into one of them
swallowed by
Cuando los hombres se acuestan con odio
la tierra amanece con hambre.
I ran through the trenches to see my own face again and again
I ran for shelter into one of the pits
And in the mass of flesh, tendons and
there i recognized my own face.
I awoke in cold sweat
to see dripping the open wound
the sky bleeding