Childeren, deprived of love.
Women, battered by hate.
Men, crazy, insane.
We notice too little, too late.

A battle won, is lost.
War faught, destenies fate.
Our leaders crazy, insane.
We notice too little, too late.

Arise to the light, glance all around.
Silence so loud, fools not a sound.
Distruction, brutality, lost in regrate.
We notice too little, too late.

I cry out your name,
Last hope with dispare.
Conspicuasly looking, perhaps you are there.
Try to make up, make a mence, contimplate,
We notice too little, too late.

Through the night I cry,
Last hope with dispare.
Disenchantedly looking, pehaps you are there,
we all die slowly, but at this rate,
Once we'll notice, t'will be too little, too late...