Black Market

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