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
Death’s 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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