| He wields his flute with an expert hand | |
| And then, all too soon | |
| The dancing stops and the children stand | |
| The piper calls the tune. | |
| He holds their future in his palm | |
| An old and powerful man | |
| With missiles poised and bombs at hand | |
| They wait for his command. | |
| With songs of fear and bigotry | |
| A cruel, hypnotic sound | |
| He plays his last tune greedily | |
| And strikes the children down. |
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