The land in silence stands Our good and fertile land Shrouded in a dress of green But time will come to harvest Now singing through the trees All joyous melodies Now young men sow their seed And time will come to harvest (The End) All young men making plans Godlike in the arrogance Heading for foreverland As the time will come to harvest Oh glorious silence Of worlds gone headlong Now resistance is futile But our blessful persistence Is but a tribute From this world to the next We revive and we mend We stave and we defend A life well spent And an inevitable end If the words they speak are true Time is running out for you Time is running out for me With the rising of the sea Black clouds gather in the sky Now when gods come home to die Peaceful calm meadows Turn to windswept battlefields By the final words I speak When I'm wounded scared and weak Don't judge me to harshly For such is all mens fate Oh, glorious silence From this world to the End.