Allessandro has said he'll run to the store
To bring back tobacco and beer
In silence we wait for the sound of the door
The hour of curfew is near

Outside I can hear the rattle of guns
The rumble of trucks in the street
Our lullaby ends, the dark hour comes
We whisper the small ones to sleep

In the morning I seek out the neighbours around
I ask them but nobody knows
Did he stop for the night with friends in the town
The doors of our friends are all closed

The sergeant looks up at the sound of my name
Quickly his eyes turn away
There's no need to answer, it's always the same
At the edge of the town, he will say

Like a broken toy he lies in the dirt
And greets me with unblinking eyes
A blood-red rose has bloomed on his shirt
He sleeps to the music of flies

Lost in his silence thoughtless I wait
For an angel of Christ to appear
My heart is closed in the black hand of hate
And hatred has stolen my tears
A bullet can open such a small wound
When our children are led to the wall
The price of his life was the sun and the moon
The price of his death so small

And where are the bullets to buy back the dreams
Of children who never grow old
And why have you traded our rice and our beans
For coffee more precious than gold

I will return to the sergeant again
In my manner no trace of surprise
He will look up to the sound of my name
To discover his death in my eyes

My brothers and sisters all flee to the wilds
To counsel, to nurture and learn
And you who feast on the blood of a child
Sleep well until we return