Stop weeping ye women who beat your breasts

Stop weeping ye women who clench your fists

You teach your children to hate so well

But you cannot understand what hate begets

Stop weeping ye women who rent your clothes

You moan and you scream for sons who are dead

But you won't stop the hate that you so lovingly spread

And yet you have the audacity to beat your breasts

Do you cry when you see others' sons dead?

Do you mourn for the victims you hate?

Do you see where your hate has so lovingly led?

To streets where your own lie bloodied and dead

This is your legacy you women who hate so well

You who beat your breasts now that your sons are dead

This is your legacy you women who know no love

Look at your legacy scrawled in blood.