On ashen lands where teardrops fell,
Stand powerful few, who stories tell,
Hear the cry, don't let quell,
Echoes of children, through depth of hell.
Mother's arms bereft of her heavenly seed,
Innocence crucified by armies creed,
The old watch as memories bleed,
Wars, only leave us with hearts that grieve.
Rise, oh voice, from the rubble and the smoke,
Speak for the silent, of the pain invoke,
Be the light, against tyranny be the cloak,
This grave concern, let's share till the end of yoke.
Faces of despair, etched on elder's guise,
Desolate homes, as freedom's price.
Courage cupped in children's eyes,
From the ashes, a new Phoenix must rise.
Sing, oh voice, with a powerful plea,
Stand for the oppressed, set the captives free.
Be the love, in this world of decree,
This grave concern, echoes in you and me.
On the battleground, where life ain't a choice,
Barefoot on shards, rise and voice.
For the women, the aged, child's warm rejoice,
Break the chains, together we make some noise.
Cry, oh voice, let the heavens hear,
In the face of injustice, let's stand clear.
Be the strength, wipe off every tear,
This grave concern, let's shoulder with no fear.
In the memory of departed fond,
May peace prevail, be the sacred bond.
Till the last breath, to freedom, we correspond,
This grave concern, of which we're commonly fond.