This land that's never set her eyes on war
Never tasted the blood of soldiers
But oh how she has tasted blood
Never tasted salty tears of genocide
But oh how she's tasted tears
Never hungered with her children's famine
But oh how she's hungered
Never brought to her knees with hopeless prayers
But oh how she has prayed
Never lived in constant terror
But oh how she has feared
The innocence that once rest like a quilt on frail shoulders
Ripped away to bear the fierce cold
Comfort, so taken for granted
Will be a beacon of what we'll miss
When all is lost