Scarlet-stained ghosts of dust drift through their streets,
haunting our conscience of deeds done and dead.
Yet one by one we fall into line, lost to the feat.

Caught in the crossfire, they resist defeat;
I’ve seen pavement painted with spatters of red.
Scarlet-stained ghosts of dust drift through their streets.

Skies rain bombs, releasing unbearable heat;
I’ve seen kids orphaned, and now wake with dread.
Yet one by one we fall into line, lost to the feat.

We’re right, they’re wrong, don’t let them retreat;
I’ve been told lies for confidence to do more than tread.
Scarlet-stained ghosts of dust drift through their streets.

Caught in the crossfire, the people are beat;
I know this isn’t the first time justice has bled.
Yet one by one we fall into line, lost to the feat.

I’ve noticed that like history, violence too does repeat,
And I’ve wished this only a warning to be said.
Scarlet-stained ghosts of dust drift through their streets,
and one by one we fall into line, lost to the feat.