Song for the world's children:
in Iran, in Ukraine, in Gaza,
in so many desperate, terrified
and hungry places,
a song that is
in Iran, in Ukraine, in Gaza,
in so many desperate, terrified
and hungry places,
a song that is
sorrowing, sorrowing,
a song that has no end.
a song that has no end.
Big-eyed children
with every rib showing,
hiding in the rubble,
sitting on their grandmothers' laps,
those grandmas with weary eyes,
who have seen this all their lives,
and it still makes no sense.
hiding in the rubble,
sitting on their grandmothers' laps,
those grandmas with weary eyes,
who have seen this all their lives,
and it still makes no sense.
How can hearts harden enough
to continue warring
when they see the children:
innocent, starving,
being killed by bombs?
being killed by bombs?
A normal human would
stop the endless fighting,
put down the guns,
get right to work,
boiling the water,
gathering food, clearing the road
so the aid trucks can pass.
What's more important
than feeding the children?
Not ideologies, politics,
borders or power.
An ancient soul peers through
those surrendering eyes;
it waits a thousand years
for the world to evolve.
First, feed the children.
Mop up their tears.
Then ask why we've been fighting
for all of these years?
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