Broken in he twisted wreckage
The
victims of Munich’s winter carnage
Crashing
in the snow and ice
There
would have to be a fearful price
And
when the bill was finally reckoned
Deaths
reaper grimly beckoned
Towards
the twenty-three poor souls
That
appeared on his fearsome rolls
Young
men cut down in their prime
Older
ones who thought they’d more time
Were
all taken from that grisly place
To
feel the breath of heaven on their face
Taking
the souls who died in the snow
To
where the innocents and the heroes go
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