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Oh, Little Child Lyrics
Oh, little child, see how the flower
You pluck bleeds on the iron ground
Bend down, your ears may catch its voice
A passionless, low sobbing sound
Oh, man, put up your sword and see
The brother that you did to death
There is no hatred in his eye
No curses crackle in his breath
You pluck bleeds on the iron ground
Bend down, your ears may catch its voice
A passionless, low sobbing sound
The brother that you did to death
There is no hatred in his eye
No curses crackle in his breath
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