We were not part of your war
but just trying to live our life
myself and my two sons
my daughter and my wife

But that didn't seem to matter
when the bombs and missiles fell
Men, women and children
friends and family blown to hell

At least I'm not haunted by the visions
of my daughter torn in two
or the sound of the explosions
that beat my sons both black and blue

And every night I don't close my eyes
and hear the sound of my wife's voice
as she calls to warn my daughter
and then cries out to my boys

For I too was buried in that shallow grave
No words were said, none made a fuss
but when the poppys fall in the Albert Hall
tell me who'll remember us?