To fly,
fly and still fly
on this world without
peace i see, i see fateless landscapes
a child's wide open
eyes But what do i see through my poor
red eyes...
blood blood
children embracing mothers
who don't speak but moan
in a crude pit...
But i've been made to fly
and heavy breathing
I whirl around a bridge
but what happens? Shots,
smoke, taste of blood
I can't see anymore
and i fall down inexorably
to the
ground i have been
shot as well and dead...
The dove of peace
lies bleeding on the ground
and no warrior approaches
she's already
dead but hope
noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!
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