Sons of the thief, sons of the saint
Who is the child with no complaint?
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own.
The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears
The cries at night, the nightmare fears
Sons of the great or sons unknown
All were children like your own...
So long ago
But sons of tycoons or sons of the farms
All of the children ran from your arms
Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin
All of the children vanished too soon.
In tow'ring waves, in walls of flesh
Among dying birds trembling with death.
Sons of tycoons or sons of the farms
All of the children ran from your arms...
Sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in lullabies
Sons of true love or sons of regret
All of their sons you cannot forget.
Some built the roads, some wrote the poems
Some went to war, some never came home.
Sons of your sons or sons passing by
Children we lost in a lullaby...
So long ago, long, long, ago
(G. Jouannest / J. Brel / M. Shumann / E. Blau)
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