Come from centuries amd hold my hands, warmly
Or the child in me will be left helpless
Alone are the children fed with anger
And their hopes from flowers, their pain from histories
They were humans too, like you, like me
And they believed in love, in respect
Like you... Like me...
They were children, somewhat abandoned, somewhat resentful
As though somewhat hurt
As though inadequately loved
As though they were ashamed of the conflict and quietened
Kiss so their bead-like tears dry in their faith
The year was nineteen forty-five and they were humans too
And they believed in love, in respect
Like you... Like me...