The water they drink comes from the same well,
dug by their ancestors.
Yet the taste they receive is never the same.

The blood running through their bodies
is the blood their ancestors gave.
So why does one end up killing another?

Why is there always a part where women are raped,
when all they have ever done is raise their babies?
Why is there always a part where children,
who only wa...

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I’d love to lull

my little lad

so tenderly

to dreamy sleep,

to cradle my

wee baby boy,

to hold him close,

then, when he’s quiet,

to lay him in

his comfy cot,

but your Jimmy

and your Jenny

follow orders,

genocide

is what they do:

hope you’re happy,

hope you’re proud,

that from England’s

pleasant land,

your sons and daughters

sent us dea...

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