Hear gunshots shatter pictures
Of the way it wouldn’t be
There was nothing you could do
I can only mourn and see
Each stumbled step that took you
To this dark and bitter place
Hear cries and screams of dying
As the rulers lost their race
The peasants starving in the street
Thought only of your bread
To them, what were your children?
What was a sightless head?
Before this was, you did not know
Yet you knew too well
And in your ignorance and pride
There came a crimson swell
Oceans of tears; streams of blood
The roaring guns still cry
And we forget your picture shards
As on we march and die
~
Photograph: the Romanovs, from cpinternet.com.
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