The children scream, the children cry,

The children starve, the children die.

They die by hunger and by sword,

They die so silent, naught a word.

The children bleed beneath the stones,

The children turn to ash and bones.

The children cry, the children weep,

The children in the darkness sleep.

But where the shadows wind and twist,

Daggers gleam within the mist.

And where the blades of daggers glow,

There the children's blood will flow.

Thus the children buried deep,

'Neath the stones their blood will seep.

But in the shadows, in the night,

In the gray and pale moonlight,

The children with a simple sigh,

'Neath the stars they starve and die.

Naught a word and naught a sound,

Their shattered minds from life unbound.

Thus in silence, cold, afraid,

The children from this world will fade.

Some will fade and some will bleed,

Others burn as one decreed.

Their frail forms are hoisted high,

And in the flames they scream and die.

The children writhe within the fire,

Wailing, screaming, on the pyre.

Thus the children, as they thrash,

Are burnt and charred to naught but ash.

So the children scream and cry,

Some will starve and all will die.

Yet even so, their sobs and pleas,

Will go unheard by those who see.

The children bleed beneath the stones,

The children turn to ash and bones.