Angels cry bloody tears, cauterizing the wounds on each other's backs
And drown out the burning pain in sour fermented wine.
Every morning they hide from strangers the scars on their thin necks,
But in the dim light of candles, they of the last of these continue to shine.

Ragged wounds on sinless bodies,
Wings torn out, rusty needles under the nails.

For what?

Returning to cages under high voltage every night,
They fall without strength, forgetting in the nightmares of their mind.
With the first rays of the sun they are awakened by lashes and burning light,
Those who have not woken up are burned, their ashes are scattered and mixed with dust by icy wind.

Oh, how wonderful to hear the wondrous singing of those who put all their hatred and sorrow into a mourning song.

Pierce the eyes of pain of those who are happy looking at you,
Remember wonderful days, native lands and the smell of beautiful flowers.
It doesn't matter who is on the chain, and who is the cruel executioner, each of the choices is not true,
One will be eternal and invariable, the memory that in the past everyone lived the best hours.