As some coffers fill with gold ,
Profiteering fortunes untold ,
And the sands fill with bones ,
Of all the young and old ,
And mothers cry for their sons ,
And yet they continue ,
To let forth the rivers of blood ,
And their beasts of war ,
And yet the spirit will not die ,
As the tortured scream -
Somewhere far away ,
There is no one to hear ,
Well one day those screams ,
Will be the only thing the torturers will hear ,
And we will all say ,
This is the world we have made.

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