Hark

Hark, it is again the Eleventh hour
Do you know where your Children are
Could they be on a ship headed for a foreign land
If you could call them back, wouldn’t it be grand

Are they flying through the skies in a fighter plane,
Going on their way to fight for freedom again
This generation has been good at breeding war
and, now, on our Children falls the chore

I saw our Sons as they were trudging through the sands
carrying our hopes along with rifles in their hands
Hark, it is again, the Eleventh hour
Do you know where your Children are

© Faye Sizemore 2/11/03

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