Bagging for bombs

I. Overture – Ashes in the Wind

(Cellos low, violins trembling)

Smoke climbs where the children played,

Names dissolve in the dust they made.

A sky once blue now torn apart,

Shrapnel hymns through a broken heart.

Empires whisper behind closed doors,

Drawing lines that become the wars.

Ink on paper, a distant hand—

Now fire rains on borrowed land.

(French horns rise)

Who writes the cost in human breath?

Who signs the ledger stamped with death?

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II. Adagio – Lament of the Innocent

(Solo violin, soft piano)

Mothers hum through shattered nights,

Cradling ghosts in fading light.

Fathers dig through the earth and stone,

Searching for voices they once called home.

Hospitals flicker, hope runs thin—

The war outside, the war within.

Even mercy feels delayed,

As aid and prayers both slowly fade.

In reality, humanitarian groups warn of surging casualties and medical shortages, with thousands killed and tens of thousands injured as strikes continue 

Still the world debates and stalls,

While silence echoes louder than calls.

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III. Scherzo – Machines of Decision

(Percussion builds, strings frantic)

Missiles rise like iron prayers,

Launched by hands that aren’t even there.

Screens glow bright in distant rooms,

While cities vanish into tombs.

Leaders speak in sharpened tones,

Turning lives to stepping stones.

Victory dressed in scripted lines,

While truth is buried between the signs.

The conflict began with massive coordinated strikes, triggering retaliation across the region and widespread destruction 

A thousand miles from where they fall,

They never hear the screaming at all.

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IV. Largo – The Weight of Silence

(Choir enters, slow and haunting)

Candles flicker in empty streets,

Echoes march where heartbeats ceased.

No anthem plays for the unnamed dead,

Just whispered prayers and tears unsaid.

The earth remembers every scar,

No matter who you say you are.

Flags may change, regimes may fall—

But grief speaks one language for all.

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V. Finale – Begging for Bombs

(Full orchestra, tragic crescendo)

We built these gods from fear and flame,

Gave them power, gave them names.

Now we kneel at their command,

Watching fire consume the land.

Begging for bombs, we call it peace,

Praying the violence somehow will cease.

Trading futures for fragile control—

While war keeps collecting its toll.

(Break — silence — then choir)

If this is strength, then what is weak?

If this is power, why can’t we speak?

(Last note sustained)

Orchestras fade…

But the echoes remain.