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Guernica

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Donโ€™t throw any bones to the dogs of war Though these legs of mine wonโ€™t dance anymore The Discount King of Carpet-bomb Land Lays down each night with those dogs at his hand He feeds them scraps of human remains Then turns his back to count his gains Before a painting of her misery I thought I saw you sowing seeds Before a painting of her misery I thought I saw your lurid deeds In her silent scream In her silent scream They canโ€™t spend the hope in our hearts We wonโ€™t break or bend, they wonโ€™t tear us apart But she was tricked by her faith in the future Those wicked machines and those obedient butchers She didn't look like Lenin or Marx, She didn't look like children of war, She didn't look like a rolling stone, She do not like the mother's song. In her silent scream In her silent scream In her silent scream In her silent scream In her silent scream In her silent scream