Here we march through the snow, here we die in the mudnThe wind aches like a thousand knives on my skinnMy walk mechanic, my thoughts far away nUnable to act, feel numb to this distressnI can't remember freedom (forgot all faces I loved)nnNo cry for help through the wire n(my existence a number on my skin)nIt will take all my power, my last will to livenI hear the sirens, searching lights roam through the nightnnReports, bloodhounds and huntersnOrders are clear, our tombs already dugnOur names on the crossesnnHere we march through the snow, here we die in the mudnThe wind aches like a thousand knives on my skinnnI'm running no looking back, no feelings at allnWill I be free at last? Will I ever kiss your face again?nWill I be free at last? The sun will be mine again nAnd I'll feel the rain, feelings return to my bodynI can't believe, that I'm sill alivenNow I remember your face, your words, yours smile...n