Wednesday, November 23, 2016

one hundred years

its been a while, its been a hundred years
since the desert drank our tears

a hundred years and yet still here today
in the graveyard where our children play


they came to us enrobed in steel
to prevent their hearts from what the may feel

and raised their guns and so released the seal
of the command and made it real

and they led us then out along the trail
from which our souls would sail


alone we stand with no body near
we protect ourselves with our tears

but the voiceless song is always calling, always calling in their ear
of our demand, loud and clear

and the words they know, as the the ones they must not say
they will be heard aloud some day


so the voiceless land it is the same
and like their shame, it will remain

and the burden of silence that we bear
it's always there, it always will be there

but the desert sands they whisper our song
on and on, they sing our song


but its not over no
in Armenia they know

in Armenia