(Brock)



Lonely figures waiting, Shadows on a hill,

Looking into valleys where everything is still.



Only death is lurking, The creeping sickness waits

So who's gonna win the war, Who's gonna win the war.



Radiation-Wasteland in the setting-sun

Dust clouds they are rising to obliterate the guns.



Already weeds are writing their scriptures in the sand,

So who's gonna win the war, Who's gonna win the war.