bombed ruins form the skyline   burnt places - all around    people trading their possessions    a keepsake for some bread       crowded trains full of people    remindful of a cattle transport    families get separated    on the way to their new homes       still the children search for cover    when they hear the airplanes    their bags are always packed    just with dolls, books and pencils       the first black men they ever saw    were among the foreign soldiers    some of them were really kind    bringing food and sometimes sweets       no more sirens in the night    which made you run into the basement    no more fear of foreign soldiers    who came to search the house       CHORUS:    it is the summer of fourty-five    black-market dealers are in the streets    but we all feel so alive    now we get again what we need