What was once a grand home
became a place of sin, and despair,
where people feel gloomy and alone
where is unity? where is care?

A place I used to adore.
A place considered precious
became a battleground of gore
where the selfish and cruel were victorious.

Poor souls fled.
Hearts were heavy with sorrow,
hearts bled.
For they believe there's no tomorrow.

War, so unmusical a word
is others' favourite melody.
The sound of peace they couldn't afford.
That's why the war record is worn out already.

What should've been a mansion
of love, peace and understanding
became a wild forest, a dungeon
where no one can do anything.

The wails of our fellowmen,
the cries of the dead,
shook our once strong walls of cement.
Our beautiful home became their deathbed.