"Bloody Sunday"

(Verse 1)

Ninety thirty nine, the September third,
 But the peace we hoped for has been blurred. 
 a frightened whisper in this place. 
My little boy, holding my hand, 
A foreign fear sweeps across the land. 
We are German blood in a Polish town, 
But the war is here, and it's tearing us down.

( Choir)
 Oh, bloody Sunday, stain of red,
Oh, bloody Sunday,

(Verse 2) 
A shout, a sudden rush of men, 
Uniforms I do not know, and then 
A terrifying chaos fills the air,
 The smell of smoke and utter despair. 
They pointed fingers, spoke in tongues, 
As the fear rose up into my lungs. 
They dragged my man away from me, 
The last I saw was his pleading eye.

(Chorus)
 Oh, bloody Sunday, stain of red,
 The innocent lie cold and dead. 
My husband, my son, their names I call,
 Caught in a darkness that consumes us all. 
Was it justice or just simple hate? 
A rifle's fury seals their fate. 
The street runs crimson, deep and wide, 
Where my future and my heart both died.

(Bridge)
 I hold his cap, still warm and small, 
Did he understand it at all? 
Did he see the hatred in their face,
 Before they took him from this place? 
They say we planted seeds of wrong, 
But where does that belong 
When a mother stands where her children fell? 
A lonely witness to a living hell.

(choir)
oh, Bloody Sunday, stain of red
oh, Bloody Sunday

(Verse 3) 
The gunfire fades, the silence aches,
 My own small world now cracks and breaks.
 I walk the stones, but they feel like glass, 
Searching for solace in what has passed. 
The Polish neighbors turn away their sight, 
Leaving me shivering in the long night.
 This borderland where loyalties bleed, 
Only the memory of my family I need.

(Chorus)
 Oh, Bromberg Sunday, stain of red,
 The innocent lie cold and dead. 
My husband, my son, their names I call,
 Caught in a darkness that consumes us all. 
Was it justice or just simple hate? 
A rifle's fury seals their fate. 
The street runs crimson, deep and wide, 
Where my future and my heart both died.

(Verse 4) 
Now the grey iron of our tanks rolls in,
 The score is tallied, the war begins. 
They call this justice for my pain, 
But nothing brings them back again. 
No retribution, no German win,
Can heal the soul where the wounds begin. 
I'm just a mother, left behind, 
With nothing but the screams left in my mind.

(choir)

oh, Bloody Sunday, stain of red
oh, Bloody Sunday, 
oh, Bloody Sunday, stain of red
oh, Bloody Sunday, 
oh, Bloody Sunday, stain of red
oh, Bloody Sunday, 
stain of red

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