Nietzsche's Last March

The ink dried up in Sils Maria

The high cold wind took the stone away

He weighed the idols with a hammer

And left the ruins in the gray

Nietzsche is dead, the bells still toll

Carving a canyon in the soul (ah-ah-ah) He broke the sky

and walked ahead

The stone remains, but Nietzsche is dead! (yeah)

No rope

to cross the deep valley

No prophet

waiting on the ridge

We build our fires on the mountain

And count

the splinters on the bridge

Nietzsche is dead, the bells still toll

Carving a canyon in the soul (hear the call) He broke the

sky

and walked ahead

The stone remains, but Nietzsche is dead!

(Nietzsche is dead)