The Seventh Cross کے بول

Here we march through the snow, here we lie in the mud. The wind aches like a thousand on my skin, my walk mechanic. My thoughts far away, unable to act, feel numb to the 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. I'm running, no looking back, no feelings at all, will I be free? Will I be free at last? Will I ever kiss your face again? The sun will be mine again and I'll feel the rain, feelings return from my body. I can't believe that I'm still alive. Now I remember your face, your words, your smile.