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