Little Soldiers

Dirty hands, dirty faces
Hiding in dirty places
With guns and knives
They take their stand
To kill their foes
On their Gang Land.

Who dared to breech the sacred creed
Who passed the lines of gangster greed
Now head to head
And toe to toe
They wait for night
As vengeance grows.

Dirty hands, dirty faces
Hiding in dirty places
Their ages younger
Each passing year
The innocence lost
Inside their fear.

As anger rises from the minds
Of those who witnessed such a crime
Just passing through
The boundaries drawn
But lines were crossed
A right was wronged.

Dirty hands, dirty faces
Hiding in dirty places
The masses set
Their guns to right
And wipe the sweat
From frightened eyes.

Shots are fired in the night
The clashing of the steel of knives
The cries of pain
As blood is drawn
Running feet...
Then silence dawns.

Dirty hands, dirty faces
No longer hide in dirty places
For not a breath
Is left to pray
As little soldiers
Go to their graves.