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.