Though our women children born unborn,
Done to death by barbaric hands;
Bespattered with blood of praying men,
In rooms and worshipping in church;
And chapel are crying for human vengeance, There's no vengeance in our heart.
Leave us alone
Leave us also in our home,
our land, To heal our wounds and tend orphans; Widows the maimed and let time erase,
Your blind hate and reveal;
To you the terrible deed of your hands,
But this, you say will not be,
For, in the silence of the aftermath;
You dared not face the thousand cries,
The cries;
Of the children you did to death in your,
madness!
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