Who will write our songs now?
Our children only know the sad chants of death.

Who will weep for our forgotten dead?
Our histories are buried under mountains of war.

Who will rock us to sleep now?
Our pillows are pockmarked with the roar of nightmares.

Who will sing and celebrate our days now?
Our skies are filled with the screams of death’s drones.

Who will feed us now?
Our hunger feeds our minds and sustains our souls.

Who will smile with us now?
Our families have been harvested into early earthen graves.

Who will remember us now?
Our haunted smiles are all that remain.

*Will you also take that from us?