Now we've come to the age,
Where the splendour fades,
And we can look behind drooping facades.
The glossy front's just fake,
The firm base breaks, as this doomed world
Slowly decays.
Illusions fly high,
Nothing we don't try,
To build up fantasies we can believe.
The dance on dragon's jaws,
In reach of it's claws, destroys the little we could retrieve.
We have resigned to our fate,
Afraid than our time is up now.
Though it's not quite too late, if we take to action now.
We see no future, just today's endured-
A tomorrow is smoke in the wind.
We dance, sing and play,
'cause we feel the strain of living at the end of our time.
Our legacy fades and melts away,
Because tomorrow may not ever be.
So we dance and sing, try to bear the thought,
Of approaching the end of our time.
Writer(s): Frank Bornemann, Hans Liebhard Folberth, Hans-juergen Arkona, Klaus-peter Matziol
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