We have to fight, we have to pray.
We are the chidren of the war.
We wait for our Holy Day,
But we forgot its real core.
We don't know real aim.
We only do the things we must.
We can't ask, we can't claim.
For our leader we are dust.
But we go through the strongest pain.
We don't scream, we don't cry.
We wait for our Holy Day,
And it will come unless we die.
The Holy Day
© Copyright: Илья Чуркин, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106110200190
Свидетельство о публикации №106110200190
Рецензии