A ship will come
We've driven through the night
And now we're standing hand in hand on the highway
Tanks and trucks are rolling down passed us
Yesterday evening we reached Lower Saxony
The air smells of gasoline
And somebody gives us tea
In a cup across which "Los Angeles '84" is written
And the wind wafts from the marsh
And all the people imagine
How it will be
In the summer after the war
As a breeze from the ocean floats above the houses
We jump atop a lorry
The driver looks anxious
Kilometer 48 - in the distance, smoke is coming from a house*
We explain quickly
What we heard and what we saw
We were here once sometime a couple of years ago on vacation
And the wind wafts from the marsh
And all the people imagined
How it will be
In the summer after the war
As a breeze from the ocean floats above the houses
At the final road block stands an old man
"Want to know how the war is going?" he asked us, and then
He started to run
Towards the barrier that closes him in
A soldier looks to his side, another one shoots.
And the wind wafts from the marsh
And all the people imagined
How it will be
In the summer after the war
As a breeze from the ocean floats above the houses