---

V:

All silent is the room,

No stir of breath,

Save mine, as in the gloom

I sit alone with Death.

C:

Short life it had, the innocent,

Small child here lying dead,

Covered in shroud of white

The gore beneath too much to behold.

V:

Sweet infant, dead too soon,

Thou shalt no more behold

The face of sun or moon,

Or starlight clear and cold;

Bridge:

Seventy five years

The world did nothing.

Sacred land stained with blood

History will tell a dark tale

Out 1:

Small feet that nevermore

About the house shall run;

Torn apart by evil men with guns