Sons of the thief, sons of the saintnWho is the child with no complaintnSons of the great or sons unknownnAll were children like your ownnThe same sweet smiles, the same sad tearsnThe cries at night, the nightmare fearsnSons of the great or sons unknownnAll were children like your ownnnSo long ago: long, long, agonnBut sons of tycoons or sons of the farmsnAll of the children ran from your armsnThrough fields of gold, through fields of ruinnAll of the children vanished too soonnIn towering waves, in walls of fleshnAmong dying birds trembling with deathnSons of tycoons or sons of the farmsnAll of the children ran from your armsnnSo long ago: long, long, agonnBut sons of your sons or sons passing bynChildren we lost in lullabiesnSons of true love or sons of regretnAll of the sons you cannot forgetnSome built the roads, some wrote the poemsnSome went to war, some never came homenSons of your sons or sons passing bynChildren we lost in lullabiesnnSo long ago: long, long, agonnBut, sons of the thief, sons of the saintnWho is the child with no complaintnSons of the great or sons unknownnAll were children like your ownnThe same sweet smiles, the same sad tearsnThe cries at night, the nightmare fearsnSons of the great or sons unknownnAll were children like your own.