Here we march through the snow, here we die in the mud   The wind aches like a thousand knives on my skin   My walk mechanic, my thoughts far away    Unable to act, feel numb to this distress   I can't remember freedom (forgot all faces I loved)      No cry for help through the wire    (my existence a number on my skin)   It will take all my power, my last will to live   I hear the sirens, searching lights roam through the night      Reports, bloodhounds and hunters   Orders are clear, our tombs already dug   Our names on the crosses      Here we march through the snow, here we die in the mud   The wind aches like a thousand knives on my skin      I'm running no looking back, no feelings at all   Will I be free at last? Will I ever kiss your face again?   Will I be free at last? The sun will be mine again    And I'll feel the rain, feelings return to my body   I can't believe, that I'm sill alive   Now I remember your face, your words, yours smile...