On the road from Szrebenica,
I saw a woman with two babies and one broken arm.
She could only carry one,
And one would have to stay behind to quickly die.
The gunmen shouted orders,
And the woman moved quickly down the road
While the baby in the blanket
Lying in the muddy ditch began to cry.
On the road, on the road from Szrebenica,
Blackbirds fly, blackbirds flying overhead
Cry: "No Mercy!"
On the road from Szrebenica,
Where there's no one left alive to count the dead.
On the road from Szrebenica,
I saw the men all pulled aside and marched away,
While their women screamed in terror.
All the men went down the pathway to the trees.
The sound of guns was muffled by the forest,
But the shots went on and on,
Then the soldiers pushed the women to keep them moving,
And the rain began to freeze.
On the road, on the road from Szrebenica,
Blackbirds fly, blackbirds flying overhead
Cry: "No Mercy!"
On the road from Szrebenica,
Where there's no one left alive to count the dead.
On the road from Szrebenica,
I saw an old man who was bent and stooped and frail.
It seemed all hope was gone.
I thought he'd never make a mile,
But I was wrong.
He seemed to have no spirit
Till he passed the ditch and heard the baby cry.
He picked the baby up
And in the swirling smoke and flames, he moved along.
I saw a woman with two babies and one broken arm.
She could only carry one,
And one would have to stay behind to quickly die.
The gunmen shouted orders,
And the woman moved quickly down the road
While the baby in the blanket
Lying in the muddy ditch began to cry.
On the road, on the road from Szrebenica,
Blackbirds fly, blackbirds flying overhead
Cry: "No Mercy!"
On the road from Szrebenica,
Where there's no one left alive to count the dead.
On the road from Szrebenica,
I saw the men all pulled aside and marched away,
While their women screamed in terror.
All the men went down the pathway to the trees.
The sound of guns was muffled by the forest,
But the shots went on and on,
Then the soldiers pushed the women to keep them moving,
And the rain began to freeze.
On the road, on the road from Szrebenica,
Blackbirds fly, blackbirds flying overhead
Cry: "No Mercy!"
On the road from Szrebenica,
Where there's no one left alive to count the dead.
On the road from Szrebenica,
I saw an old man who was bent and stooped and frail.
It seemed all hope was gone.
I thought he'd never make a mile,
But I was wrong.
He seemed to have no spirit
Till he passed the ditch and heard the baby cry.
He picked the baby up
And in the swirling smoke and flames, he moved along.
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