I'm crying for the mother, who lost her only son. Barely 16 years of age and forced to carry a gun. Across the bloody battlefield, under the vengeful sun. I'm crying for the mother who lost her only son.
I'm crying for the father, who lost his baby child. Man came carried him off, to work his cotton field. Said "If you don't mind me boy, I'll whip your little hide." I'm crying for the father, who lost his baby child.
I'm crying for the sister, who lost her loving man. Carried him off in the dark of night, and hung him from a limb. We couldn't see their faces, but we knew it was them. I'm crying for the sister who lost her loving man.
I'm crying for the brother, who couldn't see the light. They burned down our cornfields, and stole our livestock. They joined up in a rich man's war when they knew it was a poor man's fight. I'm crying for the brother who couldn't see the light.
I'm crying for the mother, who lost her only son. I'm crying for the father, who lost his baby child. I'm crying for the sister, who lost her loving man. I'm crying for the brother, who couldn't see the light.
I'm crying for the mother. I'm crying for the father. I'm crying for the sister. I'm crying for the brother.
I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
