| And for the Argentinean disappeared, Los Olvidados
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| Who killed this woman this artist this mother?
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| Who broke the candle and snuffed out her light
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| Along with her husband and wounded her children
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| And sauntered away like a beast in the night?
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| «Not I» said the soldier
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| «I just follow orders and it was my duty to do my job well»
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| «Not I» said the leader who ordered the slaughter
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| «Im saddened it happened, but then, war is hell»
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| «Not us» said the others who heard of the horror
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| Turned a cold shoulder on all that was done
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| In all the confusion a single conclusion
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| The circle of sorrow has only begun
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| And in Argentina…
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| Straight to the circle on Sundays
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| Down through the canyons they come
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| Bearing names of their mothers and daughters
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| Names of their fathers and sons
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| Stolen away with no warning, never to ever return
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| On el Rio del Muerto, All the bridges are burned
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| Los desaparecidos, lost in the darkness alone
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| Gone from the face of the earth
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| With no trace left behind them to mark with a stone
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| And the faces of Los Olvidados, only survivors recall
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| But for the pain and the heartbreak, did they matter at all?
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| Slowly the circle of sadness, spins in the Plaza Mayor
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| Lonesome remains of the madness and pain
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| In a world gone insane in a war
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| And the song of those broken survivors, dancing alone in the dark
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| With the silence of Los Olvidados, like a hole in the heart
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| Los desaparecidos, lost in the darkness alone
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| Gone from the face of the earth
|
| With no trace left behind them to mark with a stone
|
| And the faces of Los Olvidados, only survivors recall
|
| But for the pain and the heartbreak, did they matter at all? |