12 years old in Amsterdam in 1939nA blue-eyed boy, my clean complexion always got me bynA boy with real potential, sold secrets by the scorenWhere refugees were hiding I'd just point out the doorsnnIn the golden age of steam I learned those German songsnI had to stay alive, there was no right or wrongnIn the golden age of steamnnThe fatherland was rising the world would hear the roarnBoth sides fed and trusted me in 1944nTrains ran on time those days oiling the machinenSmoke rose up like serpents, I was barely seventeennIn the golden age of steamnnIt's over now but not somehownI was a hero then to many mennSwitzerland was a short ride for an eager blond haired boynWith a silver smile and loaded with jewelery to enjoynMaybe one day they'll come for me they'll take me from my bednA soldier of fortune that's what my passport readnIn the golden age of steam