Behind all the schools and the roads,
A green copper lantern, and a gate in the rain
Are keeping their watch over a voice in the cold.
The voice is the heart of the people,
The people whose prayers are the same.
10,000 paper cranes hang weeping beside
A Dove and the Nagasaki Flame..
Here in the east capital city,
I found a man with my Grandfather's core.
Each served his country in a generation of hate,
Making them enemies by the theories of war..
His face shown with the comfort and the passion
Of a life lived kindly for years,
But behind those dark eyes, in a place far beyond,
Lies a deep, thick, inescapable fear.
Well, who gets the power?
And who gets the Bomb?
Who gets the chance to decide? -
Which people will live, what people will die,
And who really has God on his side?
I'll tend to my life, if you will live yours,
When we meet, we'll raise up a glass,
But when war comes a-knocking, who'll take the blame?
And who's gonna tend to ….
Who's gonna tend to ….
Who's gonna tend to the Nagasaki Flame?
Contributed by giorgio - 2013/1/17 - 09:14
Caterina Pirrone - 2013/1/17 - 22:50
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