Hey Lord, is it really?
We´ll make something out of ourselves?
Something out of ourselves? Well, I hope so…

Hey Lord, is it needed? To kill all mothers' sons?
To kill all mothers' sons? Well I don´t think so…

There´ll be a time, when we shall pull down the kite
To look at our next 's eyes
Or we can keep pretending,
We're climbing up the stairs
To the heaven of our dreams