Times were sad when the bullets were set free.
The streets were empty, and the gardens bled.
The tender baby blood gushed down the streams of insanity,
As if God himself had struck open Cain's fountain.
And the bullets imprisoned, whose freedom had not yet come,
Laughed a mellow laughter as they cried for liberty.

O, repulsive heavens! Is death what pleasures thy hearts?!
Silently they answered. Only bitter clouds filled the sky.
And the new-born angels, who have just deceased,
Tasted this bitterness, and cried:
"What fools we were! What ignorant fools!
What fools we were when we set the bullets free..."