Guernica

Don’t throw any bones to the dogs of war
Though these legs of mine won’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 he 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 can’t spend the hope in our hearts
We won’t break or bend, they won’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