The children play, in fields of green,
The killers wait – they can’t be seen.
The land is full of pain and death,
A careless step will take your breath.

Below the soil the killers dream,
And when they wake, the children scream.
The mine explodes; no warning rings;
Tomorrow dawns, and mourners sing.

CHORUS
And when the children die, and the mother’s cry,
You will know them by, their weeping.

The gods of war have sown the pest,
They wash their hands, they do not rest.
In matters of state no line is drawn,
They fight to win, they do not warn.

While children die and mother’s weep,
The gods of war know life is cheap.
Tomorrow they begin anew,
Tomorrow there’s a job to do.

CHORUS

The children play, in fields of green,
The killers wait – they can’t be seen.
The land is full of pain and death,
A careless step will take your breath.

Below the soil the killers dream,
And when they wake, the children scream.
The mine explodes; no warning rings;
Tomorrow dawns, and mourners sing.

And when the children die, and the mother’s cry,
You will know them by, their weeping.

And when the children die, and the mother’s cry,
You will know them by, their weeping.

CODA
Weeping. Weeping.