You thought you were in heaven   but suddenly everything turns to change   the yard is burning at the garden of eden   and no one seems to care.      This is the year of silence    this is our grave.   This is the age of violence   the end of the beautiful dream.      The blood of the innocents falls from the clouds   It's the turn of the sun to burn our bones   Look them pray, poor little clowns,   in the line of death, they were the first ones.      This is the year of silence    this is our grave.   This is the age of violence   the end of the beautiful dream.