Clear the battlefield and let me see
All the profit from our victory.
You talk of freedom, starving children fall.
Are you deaf when you hear the season's call?

Were you there to watch the earth be scorched?
Did you stand beside the spectral torch?
Know the leaves of sorrow turned their face,
Scattered on the ashes of disgrace.

Every blade is sharp; the arrows fly
Where the victims of your armies lie,
Where the blades of brass and arrows reign
Then there will be no sorrow,
Be no pain.