The white flag with its slash of blood Blowing in the wind Above a land of crosses Whose ground is scarred with sin.
Rat-a-tat-tat the guns sing With the scream of war The rich live upon the fate Of the murdered poor.
The oil fields are wet But the women's wombs are dry The salty sea breeze blows Blood is tears in their eyes.
Their syllables are stolen A culture is destroyed The wisdom of the old is buried With a child's broken toys.
We stand still and watch The people wait for consummation The drill rig keeps sinking down Into the heart of a nation. ... Rita Denis
East Timor
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