They pass me when I close my eyes
Ragged lines of ragged grey
Grey their faces, grey their hands
Grey the ghosts that haunt this land
Their pain, it echoes through the hills
Though no one living ever left
This is Kolyma - a graveyard for the lost...
The muffled sounds of cries and moans
Of swearing, shooting and commands
They all disappeared in this big land
Where summer's harsh and winter kills
Where gold is hidden, death's for free
And freedom came from weapon steel
The forest conquered all the camps
Broke walls, cut fences down to earth
Land of gold and land of death,
A graveyard for the lost
You gave the treasures, you took the men,
You'll keep them forever
The cold wind's crying for the lost
He knows the sites where they all lie
The wolves are howling in the woods
Howl like calling up the dead
I'd rather trust in their fangs
Than in mercy by man's hand
The cold wind's crying for the lost
The one who knows their names
Writer(s): Michael Zeissl
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