| Song | March Of The Innocent |
| Artist | Grave Digger |
| Album | Liberty Or Death |
| 作曲 : Becker, Boltendahl ... | |
| Wooden walls around my mind | |
| My soul has left memories behind | |
| We walk around like ghosts | |
| Like puppets on a string of despair | |
| As bells toll - a call for the chosen ones | |
| Outside the window I see loaded guns | |
| The caravan of dying flowers | |
| Moving to the showers | |
| Moving through doors of steel | |
| Black flowers in cities of death | |
| Where sun turns to grey | |
| And love fades away | |
| It's the march of the innocent | |
| It's the march of the innocent | |
| Prayers don't find | |
| The right words to help | |
| Speechless they move through | |
| Thousands of tears | |
| Touching the head of a child who cries | |
| Defending the fear of those who will die | |
| Through fire we walk no chance to survive | |
| The army of terror steal our lives | |
| Now faith is the substance | |
| Of things we hope for | |
| We're starting the journey | |
| To heaven's door | |
| Black flowers in cities of death | |
| Where sun turns to grey | |
| And love fades away | |
| It's the march of the innocent | |
| It's the march of the innocent | |
| It's the march of the innocent | |
| It's the march of the innocent |
| zuò qǔ : Becker, Boltendahl ... | |
| Wooden walls around my mind | |
| My soul has left memories behind | |
| We walk around like ghosts | |
| Like puppets on a string of despair | |
| As bells toll a call for the chosen ones | |
| Outside the window I see loaded guns | |
| The caravan of dying flowers | |
| Moving to the showers | |
| Moving through doors of steel | |
| Black flowers in cities of death | |
| Where sun turns to grey | |
| And love fades away | |
| It' s the march of the innocent | |
| It' s the march of the innocent | |
| Prayers don' t find | |
| The right words to help | |
| Speechless they move through | |
| Thousands of tears | |
| Touching the head of a child who cries | |
| Defending the fear of those who will die | |
| Through fire we walk no chance to survive | |
| The army of terror steal our lives | |
| Now faith is the substance | |
| Of things we hope for | |
| We' re starting the journey | |
| To heaven' s door | |
| Black flowers in cities of death | |
| Where sun turns to grey | |
| And love fades away | |
| It' s the march of the innocent | |
| It' s the march of the innocent | |
| It' s the march of the innocent | |
| It' s the march of the innocent |