THE CHILDREN DRAW GUNS
+1985 Mark Cohen
Morning in San Caralampio
Schoolchildren gather around
From Guatemala their families have fled to this Mexican town
A woman from north of the border
Opens a box on the floor
Gives them all crayons and paper, some never have seen
these before
Draw me a picture of home, she says
Anything you can recall
Use all the colors, then we'll put them up on the wall
CHORUS:
And the children draw guns, bullets and blood
Soldiers in uniform burning their houses
Trampling gardens to mud
The children of San Caralampio draw pictures of guns
Look at them quietly working
Drawing with care and with pride
Showing no sign of the terrible memories hidden inside
But where are the sun and the rainbows?
Where are the birds in the skies?
Where are the circles of children who dance with the stars
in their eyes?
Don't look for stars in the children's eyes
Don't look for sun in their sky
These are the children of war, who have watched their friends die
CHORUS
Some say they will not remember
Some say they can't understand
Look at the pictures and see that they know what was done
to their land
What have we done to these children?
What have we taken away?
Far from their homes, will they ever be free just to draw
and to play?
Some will be soldiers before too long
Carrying guns of their own
Turned into pictures by children who'll never come home
CHORUS
(tag) And the soldiers draw guns . . .
And the bullets draw blood
Unknown - Children Draw Guns Lyrics
Unknown - Children Draw Guns Lyrics
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THE CHILDREN DRAW GUNS
+1985 Mark Cohen
Morning in San Caralampio
Schoolchildren gather around
From Guatemala their families have fled to this Mexican town
A woman from north of the border
Opens a box on the floor
Gives them all crayons and paper, some never have seen
these before
Draw me a picture of home, she says
Anything you can recall
Use all the colors, then we'll put them up on the wall
CHORUS:
And the children draw guns, bullets and blood
Soldiers in uniform burning their houses
Trampling gardens to mud
The children of San Caralampio draw pictures of guns
Look at them quietly working
Drawing with care and with pride
Showing no sign of the terrible memories hidden inside
But where are the sun and the rainbows?
Where are the birds in the skies?
Where are the circles of children who dance with the stars
in their eyes?
Don't look for stars in the children's eyes
Don't look for sun in their sky
These are the children of war, who have watched their friends die
CHORUS
Some say they will not remember
Some say they can't understand
Look at the pictures and see that they know what was done
to their land
What have we done to these children?
What have we taken away?
Far from their homes, will they ever be free just to draw
and to play?
Some will be soldiers before too long
Carrying guns of their own
Turned into pictures by children who'll never come home
CHORUS
(tag) And the soldiers draw guns . . .
And the bullets draw blood
+1985 Mark Cohen
Morning in San Caralampio
Schoolchildren gather around
From Guatemala their families have fled to this Mexican town
A woman from north of the border
Opens a box on the floor
Gives them all crayons and paper, some never have seen
these before
Draw me a picture of home, she says
Anything you can recall
Use all the colors, then we'll put them up on the wall
CHORUS:
And the children draw guns, bullets and blood
Soldiers in uniform burning their houses
Trampling gardens to mud
The children of San Caralampio draw pictures of guns
Look at them quietly working
Drawing with care and with pride
Showing no sign of the terrible memories hidden inside
But where are the sun and the rainbows?
Where are the birds in the skies?
Where are the circles of children who dance with the stars
in their eyes?
Don't look for stars in the children's eyes
Don't look for sun in their sky
These are the children of war, who have watched their friends die
CHORUS
Some say they will not remember
Some say they can't understand
Look at the pictures and see that they know what was done
to their land
What have we done to these children?
What have we taken away?
Far from their homes, will they ever be free just to draw
and to play?
Some will be soldiers before too long
Carrying guns of their own
Turned into pictures by children who'll never come home
CHORUS
(tag) And the soldiers draw guns . . .
And the bullets draw blood