All silent is the room
No stir of breath
Save mine, as in the gloom
I sit alone with Death
Short life it had, the innocent
Small child here lying dead
Covered in shroud of white
The gore beneath too much to behold
Sweet infant, dead too soon
Thou shalt no more behold
The face of sun or moon
Or starlight clear and cold
Seventy five years
The world did nothing
Sacred land stained with blood
History will tell a dark tale
Small feet that nevermore
About the house shall run
Torn apart by evil men with guns