Vaterland (English)

The cross has taken you there,
On the master's throne
The sun, the stars have the power
Ill-fated, the people's wage

You tear down the roof over my head
With neither purpose nor remorse
You take the flesh from my mouth
And throw it to the sows

Father, Fatherland
Father, Fatherland

You fill your chalice with my blood
And turn it into wine for yourself
Big animals, sweet fruits
None for the little ones

Father, Fatherland
Father, Fatherland
You, my Father
Fatherland, Father
Fatherland

Loyalty sworn to your colours,
You take the sons by the hand
Mother now lays him underground,
Dead for a foreign land

Father, Fatherland
You, my Father
Fatherland, Father
Fatherland
Fatherland