are children raised in sorrow on a scorched and barren plain there are children raised beneath the golden sun There are children of the water, children
dreams I've crushed That keep hunting me every night... The memories...the soldiers...the mothers and their children... I need to find peace of mind So I'm heading on pilgrimage to the ancient
and his tribe. Those not lured to weakness.........by light. [Voice of the old one:] "Moonlight bright embrace thee. Forever she caresses thee. Free you eternally. Fear not children
on the main The driver was approaching the American zone The waving of hands The tiniest train They never dreamed they'd never wake again Voice of the
Son at home he doesn't really know Fifty-four years seems so very old Throws the carnival's ad in the fire Flames grow higher Long after midnight, children
side And we laugh like soft, mad children Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon the Ancient
son she had last night is buried under her They say that the war is done Where are you now, my son? An old man with unsteady gait and beard of ancient
a flame on the altar, And the ancient?s spirit lived in the flame. Over the church porticos, Wonderful angels sang old war songs. Their voices were
my heart pushed in As all around the children play The games they tired of yesterday They play I stand and hear my voice Cry out A wordless scream at ancient
There are children raised in sorrow On a scorched and barren plain There are children raised beneath a golden sun There are children of the water Children
she'd pass... when the bells over the ancient church ring midnight... Strange figures rise from the fog... Like a funeral party... the children plays
cross on the main The driver was approaching the American zone The waving of hands The tiniest train They never dreamed they'd never wake again Voice
look so fake ? Preaching the evil, providing death Oh my sons, are you awake How come your world is ruled by hate, Unholy children in madness state