We hear, we see their tears
Why they worked bravely
Tradition of their age
We feel, we sense stories
In this Ground
In a Holy Silence
In this World
They left behind
We see through
Their eyes, their heart
And know why they cried
We thought we could help them
To survive at night time
We breathe by their graves
Their stones
And see how they died
We walk through their stories
And see their Dark Side
We need, we need to sense
Their Souls
In this Holy Silence
Watching faces in the sky
We feel divine stories
In the ground
We can hear most of them
Living through their crimes