Winterzeit in Westberlin, da ist elf Uhr schon High Noon. Der gelähmte Mann im Schloss, zuletzt nur noch von Pfarrer Peter Hinze verteidigt, gibt dem Druck der Druckerpressen nach und wirft die paar Brocken hin, die noch übrig sind vom Amt des obersten Moralisten. Auch dieser Rücktritt gehört nun zu Deutschland.
We are not children any more
The fists you made they are come bashing at your door
Your legacy is waiting in the wings
And there's something so familiar in the hunger that we bring
We don't want to be like you, don't want to live like you
Learn by our own mistakes, thank you
Forcing time and pushing through
You are not our heroes anymore
Dim the lights the time is come
Into the ring the father and the son
Sown in sweat and passion long ago
And now the blood on our hands is the same as our own
And the man has the skill and the man has the power
But the boy has the will to win and so much time
You are not our heroes anymore
If you knew then what you know now to be true
You never would have started this whole chain we're going through
And you love us now but you hate us still
And we hate you now but we love you still
You are not our heroes anymore
You are not my mother, you are not my father
You are not our heroes anymore
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