This song is about senseless pain and suffering, inspired by two documentaries shown on German television. The first and the last stanza are about a man, who lost his daugther in the fire of the Ramstein air show disaster 1988 and sustained serious skin injuries himself. The middle stanza is about a group of prisoners during the Nazi regime, who were forced to work in the bog in Lower Saxony (Germany) and wrote the protest song "Moorsoldatenlied" (Peat Bog Soldiers).

 

A young father and his child standing still hand in hand
A young mother same child lying in bed singing a lullaby
Idyllic family structure, filled with harmony
this is how it always should have been
Never could imagine that what happens on TV
would have become one day their own reality

A small group of people, some senior men,
they are the last of their squad
They’ve all come back to where they once had been
forced to drain the bog
Once they sang their own song about the bog soldiers
about their fate and loss of home
Now they’re standing in a semicircle close
seeing their names carved in cold, wet stone

Singing their own song again with a vow to prevail
Singing their own song again still trying to understand

Still there ain’t no money no kind of reparation
that could ever heal their open wounds
These are the bog soldiers and they are still coming
to find the ghost of a world beyond

The young father and his child standing still
in a silent crowd
The priest in the middle reads the names one by one 
of those who have gone
Once he saw the daughter of his former life
standing in the fiery blaze
In that moment he hoped she would not survive
now they’re standing at her grave

Singing their own song again the daughter, sister in their minds
Singing their own song again with a vow to survive

Still there ain’t no money no sort of reparation
that could ever heal their open wounds
These are the bog soldiers and they are still coming
to search the ghost of a world beyond

They carry on their memory, they carry on their story
It could happen to us all
These are the bog soldiers and they need us to remember
To keep alive a world forgone