Tell us, Soldier/Murderer,
Do you feel like a Big Man
Because you wear a uniform
And kill because you can?

Do you call it honor
To strike down an unarmed man,
Old enough to be your father,
With your wooden bat in hand?

Did you brag to all your friends that night
Of all your manly deeds?
And was your mother oh-so-proud
That you made an old man bleed?

You came with the intent to kill;
We saw it in your face,
Your glee, your pleasure in the act
Of taking our Amir from us.
We saw you half a world away
When protectors let you have your way—

We will not forget that fact.
Guilt clings to you with bloody scent.
Justice will sniff you out one day—
Believe it! Not one of us forgets.