Cry Cry

All you saints

Who've not been named

Die Die

For children

Who aren't to blame

Now and then

A king is dead

For the projects

And gangland logic

It was shed

Now and then

Good has been done

Blacks have this rights

Still in the sights

Of an old gun

There they are

Pope in one hand

Pray in anger

Born in danger

Over their lost land

There they are

Blessed with the bombs

Cursed in their life

Religion, strife

Fighting the wrongs

With all hate

Warriors of fear

Jungles of blood

Bodies in mud

African tear

With all hate

Thousands each day

Bullets for smiles

Death of a child

Nothing to pay

In man's way

City bus fire

Holy the wounds

Piled on the dunes

Common desire

In man's way

Two sides of lies

Burnt innocent

No one repents

And our God cries

Cry Cry

All you saints

Who've not been named

Die Die

For children

Who aren't to blame