Look my child at what they've done,
Our neighbors dead and now a fire beneath our Sun
At war we are my Son,
Now you go and answer to your countries call,
Do us proud, hold your head up high,
Let not these murdering swine pass you by,

Times are now hard my Son,
But let not your hart grow dim,
We will stand there for you,
As all the funerals come marching in,
Our price for freedom, can never be too high,

The years have past, We did what's right,
But somehow we have lost the fight,
Just be thankful Son,
That you were crippled not, like your brother,
No Son, hold not your head up too high,
They have won, we have lost,
They are now the good guys, we are now the bad,
From here on naught but tragedy,
Shall unfold beneath our sky

Eighteen years of history have now past,
All in stone disaster cast,
The children as gypsies upon the world dispersed,
But the common band of glories past,
Still hold the memories of betrayals planned and Justus lost.

Seen It All

© 2001 Antony Hawkins
E-Mail: antony_uniacke_hawkins@hotmail.com