They fought in the trenches
Surrounding Vimy Ridge.
They fell in the fields,
Lacking one last kiss.
They sank on open waters,
Praying to their God.
They were shot dead in Saigon,
Fighting for a fraud.
They were blown to bits and pieces,
Found later in the Ardennes.
They fell to Fascist rifles,
In the name of Spain and all her friends.
They died for old MacArthur—
his ego could care less.
They died for all the Germans,
In Hitler’s game of chess.
They died for King and Country,
In the name of their great Queen.
They died in ancient Baghdad,
Victim to an enemy unseen.
They fell from sixty storeys
On that dark and tragic day.
They sat in rehab centers
With nothing left to say.
They sat at home with family,
No longer able to walk,
Hoping for that final day,
When the guns would drop,
Bullets would stop,
And all we would do,
Is just sit down,
And talk.

All ages, races, genders
The Earth intertwined.

Can You Hear Peace?
Listen.
The grass blows,
The birds fly,
The people sing and dance.
Now listen closer.
The grass blows new and green,
The birds fly free,
And the people sing and dance together.
Can you hear it?

The moment you open your eyes to the light,
The soldiers and gunmen, they start up the fight.
The dove wants to fly, but it can’t get free
The chains of our warfare that we cannot see
Are holding it down to the cold and hard floor
And all of its strength disappears through the door
The dove and its branch

Yet the simple colors of the morning sky
seem enough to make you cry.
Those peaceful seconds when you awake,
Your world is in a simple place.
The simple colors of the morning sky
Should be enough to make it fly,
The dove and its branch.