A ruined street, no longer manned,
A ravaged city, war-torn land,
The dead that mark war's age old brand,
And all made real by human hand.
.
And all the while the people die,
The mothers, sisters, widows cry,
As more destruction fills the eye,
And all the while they wonder why.
.
The people now half dead with pain,
Too tired to hide from tank and plane,
As still blood flows, war leaves its stain,
Some left for dead, the rest insane.
.
And all the while the people die,
The mothers, sisters, widows cry,
As more destruction fills the eye,
And all the while they wonder why.
.
The people pray for war's swift end,
To heal the wounds that cannot mend,
They can't shed tears as they intend,
Too tired, too hurt, they must pretend.
.
And all the while the people die,
The mothers, sisters, widows cry,
As more destruction fills the eye,
And all the while they wonder why.
.
The war hasgone from glade and glen,
And silence fills both hill and fen,
There is no trace of what was then,
The time God turned his back on men.
.
And all the while the people die,
The mothers, sisters, widows cry,
As more destruction fills the eye,
And all the while God wonders why.
.
And even though the people died,
And even though the tears weren't dried,
The victors turned to God with pride,
And God, he looked away and cried.
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