fall of those we trusted,
fall of hope and candlelight,
and blasted hellscapes, rusted
fall of light, and fall of life
and fall of dust and heartbeats,
the world watches and pretends
they cannot see us deletes.
For that is what we would become
would not with dear time's passing
the world know we fought and bled,
and at the last, and died gasping.
We sought to stand as you have claimed
neighbor helping neighbor
but some amongst us with their hate
pushed you away, our savior.
And still we stand, now at the last,
white helmets far from gleaming
hoping against hope these poor souls
may one day 'member, dreaming
that though we lost and though we died
and though the world now darkened
these souls may dream of candlelight
and too kinship, then, hearken.
These tiny souls, these innocents,
the bullets closing in
cannot begin to understand
my weeping violin.
The choking dust is closer now,
air heavy, harsh with gas.
Barrel bombs, mortars, missile strikes
are sure to be our last.
But while the blue sky lives somewhere
somewhere trees are green
I'll raise music to candlelight
and with my strings, now keen.
For we will not escape this fate,
the shelling, far too rough,
our hopes and dreams, now bleeding out
are made of kinder stuff.
Remember us, these children here,
when we are dead and gone.
Remember dreams of candlelight.
Remember... comes the dawn.