1. Out on the streets we heard the blast,
An explosion, then a commotion.
A Palestinian iconoclast,
Brain-dead with devotion.
And in the aftermath the chill,
As we took in amongst the kill,
Our Sarah’s bloodied form lay still,
In expelled animation.
Chorus: We are the parents of the dead,
The angry, innocent bereaved.
Instead of hatred we share grief,
No matter what our race or creed.
2. A rifle-shot, a ricochet,
Farrago down in Gaza.
Stealthily searching a passageway,
Snap-sighting down a laser,
An Israeli soldier on patrol,
Sniping at shadows in cubby-holes,
Took out Badawi scurrying home,
From school to you, his father.
Chorus: We are the parents of the dead,
The angry, innocent bereaved.
Instead of hatred we share grief,
No matter what our race or creed.
Bridge: Each retribution brings no end
To slaughter of the innocents.
We call on both sides to repent,
So wounds can heal and hearts can mend.
May cousins learn to understand
How two states share the Promised Land.
We are one, Arabs and Israelis,
The Circle of Bereaved Families.
Final Chorus: We are the parents of the dead,
The angry, innocent bereaved.
Instead of hatred we share grief,
No matter what our race or creed.
We are the parents of the dead,
We are the parents of the dead.
© Dave Pierce, 2014.