A child dies in silence
On the sidewalk in Bogota
Shredded in minefields
Decimated on the front lines
Dead, the children of war
For their fathers' ideas
Dead, the children of Bhopal
Gone into the waters of the Ganges
Dead, the children of hate
Near us or farther away
Dead, the children of fear
Dead, the children of the Sahel
Dead, the children of Seveso
Dead, the trees, the birds
Dead, the children of the road
Last weekend of August
Daddy was probably boozing
Idiots and torturers
Dead, the child who lived in me
Who saw in that world
And men pretty much brothers
Men have gone crazy
The river carries tears
One day the child grabs a gun
Slaughter at the ministry
Under the rubble, the bed-ridden