Less than one week ago a child in Northern Ireland was killed in the clash between Protestants and Catholics. Yesterday the murderous horror from the skies in the United States. Meanwhile revelations grow each month over the trained death squads and their reign of terror against innocent people. Today a Moslem mosque was firebombed in Montreal, Quebec. The bombing of the World Trade Centre comes upon the anniversary of the last broadcast by former Chilean President Salvador Allende's last speech before his murder by the Chilean military with U.S. complicity. It is all the same, be it New York, Washington, Santiago, Kosovo, Belfast, here or wherever. This song was written from a sense of sadness and anger as I watched the events of September 11.
SEPTEMBER 11 (music and words by Len Wallace)
I saw the news this morning a tower all in in flames I saw the ones about to die, I didn't know their names. I watched the screen in disbelief, an unbelieving eye. The questions come into my mind for who, for what, for why?
Terror is an ugly word for an ugly hateful hate. Terror of the madmen or terror of the State. Terror from the death squads or terror from the skies. No matter where, no matter when it's the innocents who die.
And the sadness grows, the sadness grows.
A pipe bomb kills a Belfast child on her way to school. The plane crashed into a tower by a willing fool. Napalm raining from the skies for all the world to see. Dimensions of the madness are all the same to me.
And the sadness grows, the sadness grows.
From the one who hides behind a desk to the one behind the gun, From the one who hides behind a mask in the hateful deed that's done, From the one who give the orders and justifies decrees to the one who pulls the trigger, just a matter of degrees.
And the sadness grows, the sadness grows.
The war that's over there is the war that's brought to home To reap a bitter harvest from the seeds that we have sewn. For religion, dogma, bits of flag and the things for which men kill, For the lies that divide us I'll say I've had my fill.
And the sadness grows, the sadness grows. The sadness grows, oh the sadness grows.
copyright, Len Wallace September 11, 2001 lwallace@mnsi.net
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