I'll put flowers at your feet,
And I will sing to you so sweet,
And hope my words will carry home
To your heart.
You left us marching on the road,
And said how heavy was the load-
The years were young,
The struggle barely at its start.
Do you hear the voices in the night,
Bobby?
They're crying for you
See the children in the morning light,
Bobby
They're dying
No one could say it like you said it,
We'd only try and just forget it
You stood alone upon the mountain
Til it was sinking
And in a frenzy we tried to reach you
With looks and letters we would
beseech you
Never knowing what, where or how
you were thinking
Do you hear the voices in the night,
Bobby?
They're crying for you
See the children in the morning light,
Bobby
They're dying
Perhaps the pictures in the Times
Could no longer be put in rhymes,
When all the eyes of starving children
Are wide open
You cast aside the cursed crown
And put your magic into a sound
That made me think your heart was
aching or even broken.
But if God hears my complaint
He will forgive you
And so will I, in all respect,
I'll just relive you
And likewise, you must understand
These things we give you:
Like these flowers at your door
And scribbled notes about the war.
We're only saying the time is short
And there is work to do.
And we're still marching
On the streets
With little victories and big defeats,
But there is joy and there is hope
and there's a place for you.
Do you hear the voices in the night,
Bobby
They're crying for you
See the children in the morning light,
Bobby
They're dying
Writer(s): Joan Baez
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