Down the hall their voices ring, their feet are on the run.
Phantoms on the winter sky, together they do come.
Faded lips and eyes of blue they're carried in the wind.
Their laughter filled the countryside but they'll not laugh again.

All the games are ended now, their voices have been stilled.
Their fathers built the tools of war by which they all were killed.
Their fathers made the uniforms showing which side they were on
and the young boys wear the middle name for guns to pray upon.

You've seen the fires in the night, watched the devil as he smiles.
You've heard a mother's mournful cry as she searches for her child.
You've seen the lines of refugees, the faces of despair
and wondered at the wise men who never seem to care.

Goodbye you lost children, God speed you on your way.
Your little beds are empty now, your toys are put away.
Your mother sings a lullaby as she gazes at the floor.
Your father builds more weapons and marches out once more.

Down the hall their voices ring, their feet are on the run.
Phantoms on the winter sky, together they do come.
Faded lips and eyes of blue they're carried in the wind.
Their laughter filled the countryside but they'll not laugh again.