(Brock)

Lonely figures waiting, Shadows on a hill,
Looking into valleys where everything is still.

Only death is lurking, The creeping sickness waits
So who's gonna win the war, Who's gonna win the war.

Radiation-Wasteland in the setting-sun
Dust clouds they are rising to obliterate the guns.

Already weeds are writing their scriptures in the sand,
So who's gonna win the war, Who's gonna win the war.