Every night I invite quislings* for a drink
Sissies all around me
He who sleeps with kids, wakes up wet
I searched with a candle, no living people around
Judge and jury at the same time
Help!
I fight the war alone, I fight the war alone
My own brother will trick me and lie to me
He'd sell me out, stab me in the neck
I don't trust anyone, nor would I place my trust in anyone
I fight the war alone, I fight the war alone
Frightened friends won't move a finger
I'm the next one to be crucified
My conscience is clean, I won't make any regrets,
While my mind serves me well, I will use it
My voice is powerful, thus I bark loudly
Help!
I fight the war alone, I fight the war alone
* Quislings, as in "traitors" - originally "Brankovićes", referring to a Serbian legend of Vuk Branković's betrayal at the Kosovo Battle of 1389 (which was actually false)