Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: The Cure. Boys Don't Cry. World War.

Dressed in Berlin black, I was only playing
Disguised my words to fool you from what I was saying
Mud trench, meat stench, the fatherland is looking on
Grip you in a luger lock, this will be the big one

World war, no one would believe me
No one's a winner, no one's a loser
Just a dead friend

Heaven, heaven, give me pride, give me a golden hand
Smash them with an iron rule, spit them out like sand
Sit and wait then run like hell, run like hell, one time again
Sow the seeds of hate underneath destruction

World war, no one would believe me
No one's a winner, no one's a loser
Just a dead friend

World war, no one would believe me
No one's a winner, no one's a loser
Just a dead friend