Words and Music T. Peach
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They fled in the storm just before our bombs would reach them
Nameless peasants dying in the night
You won't see them in our news, we must not see our victims
For this to be a just war we must be blind
If you kill a child on the street we call that an act of murder
But in a war we call it friendly fire
To us it is an abstract thing, a theoretical decision
Only with this disconnection can it seem right
We fled in the storm just before their bombs would reach us
Nameless peasants dying in the night
To them it is an abstract thing, a theoretical decision
Only with this disconnection can it seem right
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