Black Market - Live

Bombed ruins form the skyline
 Burnt places all around
 People trading their possessions
 A keepsake for some bread
 Crowded trains, full of people
 Remindful of a cattle transport
 Families get separated
 On the way to their new homes
 Still the children search for cover
 When they hear the airplanes
 Their bags are always packed
 Just with dolls, books and pencils
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need
 The first black men they ever saw
 Were among the foreign soldiers
 Some of them were really kind
 Bringing food and sometimes sweets
 No more sirens in the night
 Which made you run into the basement
 No more fear of foreign soldiers
 Who came to search the house
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need
 It is the summer of forty-five
 Black market dealers are in the streets
 But we all feel so alive
 Now we get again what we need