Red River

The fields are red, with blood,
The rivers are filled with slain,
the cities are crumbling down,
and their woman, lifeless on the plain.
Their sons lye broken and dead,
on the ground their blood was shed,
silently on the river bed,
they bled.
Some were hacked to pieces,
some were stabbed right though,
some were drowned in the rivers,
and some were trampled too.
The children lay dead in the streets,
their laughter will never be heard again,
their eyes will never see,
their clothing, bloody and stained.
These people died like dogs,
their houses burned to the ground,
because they believed in God,
and they refused to put him down.
The red river flows to the sea,
washing away the debris,
carrying with it the blood of the daughters and sons,
of liberty.
None of them will ever wake,
Not a one of them can rise,
what will be done to the men,
who dared to take their lives?