Ghosts of Men

No more, never to be, we are just a memory, a legend, lives cut short
On still nights can you hear our voices calling?
The shots ringing out across the gullies
over the dry hills with the gum trees, bark peeling

Do those that carry our blood still mourn us?
Or have our deeds become that by which we are remembered
So that our thoughts and dreams are only a pale shade
have we become history

We were but boys
Boys who took hostages, but arranged flowers for mass
Who fate turned against and condemned
We died as men but never lived

And as the wind blows stirring the dust
Muttering of memories of blood and of fire
Can you hear us calling to you?
Calling over the long years

Remember, remember us…