Mother Bury Your Sons

If I scatter your ashes both far and wide
Across all nations, great and sacred divide
Forgotten church yards to ancient temple ruin
Broken bended knee to prayer and absolution

Rusted weapons at this empty water post
To the bones that scattered across this faring coast

Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
Could you heal our wounds with a mother's forgiveness?
Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
Could you heal our wounds?

What you do, you reveal across the dreaded wire
Cheekbones of razor and eyes of defiling fire
Time stood still for the love we have proven
And this devoured our hearts' destitution

As young men never thought of growing old
The words that leave a sign are long undone

Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
Could you heal our wounds with a mother's forgiveness?
Dressed in rags and our spiritual riches
Can you heal our wounds?

Can you heal our wounds?
Take my hands and heal these wounds
Mother, won't you bury your sons?
Oh, mother, you bury your sons
Oh, mother, you bury, you bury your sons
You will bury your sons