Read my sole desire,
Oh my future children,
Burn my pyre when I die,
For I don't want to rise again,
Rise again when the angels cry,
And when they cry the dead rise,
Cry they may on the Judgment Day.

I don't want to be the walking dead,
As a blight may I 'come for earth,
Don't get me counted in them,
No, I don't wanna be buried,
Burn me after my death,
Oh my successors,
Read my will.

As I don't wanna walk again the floor of hatred,
And I don't wanna witness again that blood red,
As I don't wanna see the sky turning crimson red,
And I don't wanna waste some land as my bed,
Rather give me an electric funeral, my people,
For soon they will run their tanks over my grave,
And they might displace it and insult my grace.