They vanished from the earth
Or what laws they'd offended
And the babies they tendered
All condemned by their birth
In their heart, they were slain
In their God, still believing
In that season of grieving
Call in vain, all in vain
Just for one helping hand
For no one heard their prayers
In a world bent on pleasure
They simply closed their eyes
They create a lot of sound
In jazz and rag-time measure
The trumpets screamed till dawn
To drown the children's cries
And not one knew his crime
Like the small desert flower
Soon covered by the silent wind
But their lives and their passion
And their longing to live
So their harvest could thrive
And their children could grow
Their eyes still full of sound
Like a dove in its flight
That falls down where it might
As if death were a trifle
Who died in unknown places
Who perished in their pride
Whose blood in rivers ran
With courage on their faces
Their only crime was life
Their only guilt was being
Nothing less, nothing more
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © EDITIONS MUSICALES DJANIK, Society of Composers, Authors and Music Publishers of Canada (SOCAN)