Sung by Tarma

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Lyrics Edit

These are the hands that that wield a sword 

With trained and practiced skill 

These are the hands, and this the mind 

Both honed and backed by will 

Death is my partner, blood my trade, 

And war my passion wild– 

But these are the hands that also ache 

To hold a tiny child 


Suffer, they suffer the children,

When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks! 

It is ever and always the children 

Who will pay for their parents’ mistakes 

Somehow they know that I’m a friend– 

I see it in their eyes, 

Somehow they sense a kindly heart– 

So young, so very wise 

Mine are the hands that maim and kill– 

But children never care 

They only know my hands are strong 

And comfort is found there. 

Little enough that I can do

To shield the young from pain

Not while their parents fight and die

For land, or goods, or gain.

All I can do is give them love

All I can do is strive

To teach them enough of my poor skill

To help them stay alive.

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