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They fell that year they vanished |
|
From the earth |
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Never knowing the cause |
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Or what laws the offended |
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The women few as well |
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And the babies they tendered |
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Left to die left to cry |
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All condemned by their birth |
|
They fell like rain |
|
Across the thirsty land |
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In their heart they were slain |
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In their God still believing |
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All their pity and pain |
|
In that season of grieving |
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All in vain, all in vain |
|
Just for one helping hand |
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For no one heard their prayers |
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In a world bent on pleasure |
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Form others people care |
|
They simply closed their eyes |
|
They create a-lot of sound |
|
In jazz and right time measure |
|
The trumpets screamed till dawn |
|
To drown the children's cries |
|
They fell like leaves |
|
Its people its prime |
|
Simple man, kindly man |
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And no one new his crime |
|
The became in that hour |
|
Like the small desert flower |
|
Simply covered by the silent wind |
|
In sands of time |
|
They fell that year |
|
Before a cruel foe |
|
They had little to give |
|
But their lives and their passion |
|
And their longing to live |
|
In their way, in their fashion |
|
So their harvest can |
|
Thrive their children can grow |
|
They fell like flies |
|
Their eyes still full of sound |
|
Like a dove its flight |
|
In the path of rifle |
|
That fall down were it might |
|
That holds on with its might |
|
As if death were a trifle |
|
And to bring to an end |
|
A life barely begun and I am of that race |
|
Who die in unknown places |
|
Who perished in their pride |
|
Whose blood in rivers ran |
|
In agony and fright |
|
With courage on their faces |
|
They went in to the night |
|
That waits for every man |
|
They fell like tears |
|
And never new what for |
|
In that summer of strife |
|
Of massacre and war |
|
Their only crime was life |
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There only guilt was fear |
|
The children of Armenia |
|
Nothing less nothing more |
