Wilde Lager - Rome

We’re clubbing traitors in green summer fields

Reality is changing colour

All the nation’s sad sweetness

Is flowing from their eyes

And kneaded into time

The sun in our eyes and the rain on our boots

As black as our gift to the world

In this warm bath of black blood

We would give our skin for a beautiful drum

We’re chasing traitors through green summer fields

All the way back across the waters

And we would do just about anything

Just to translate this void into substance

Wanting to daub time over

With thick colours

In this sultry heat

This stifling fever heat

We are tender young gods

Love and despair locked in an embrace

Two wilted flowers black and green

Love and despair locked in an embrace

Truth changed its smell as it aged

In the sweat of the august days

In the summer of surrender