"Mercy, mercy," why didn't we hear it? "Mercy, mercy," why did we read
it
buried on the last page of our morning papers? The plan was drafted,
drafted in secret. Gunboats met the red tide, driven to the rum trade
for the army that they created. But the bullets were bought by us, it
was
dollars that paid them.
Please forgive us, we don't know what was done in our name. There'll
be
more trials like this in mercenary heydays. When they're so apt to
wrap
themselves up in the stripes and stars and find that they are able to
call
themselves heroes and to justify murder by their fighters for freedom.
Please forgive us, we don't know what was done. Please forgive us, we
didn't know. Could you ever forgive us? I don't know how you could. I
know
this is no consolation. Please forgive us, we didn't know. Could you
ever
believe that we didn't know? Please forgive us, we didn't know. I
wouldn't
blame you if you never could, and you never will.
