As I lay in my bed,
I can't help but feel bad that somewhere, some time tonight...

A poor child will be dead.
There'll be no justice;
It is something, society will easily forget.

The streets will always be painted red,
and society will always show less care: thereupon people will continue enjoying the night.

The morning I'll wake up,
and find the story in the papers
so as I'll read, I'll also discover a young girl kidnapped by some rapist.

See to where this tragedy had led, it could've been avoided, instead we became pusillanimous;
And for this we'll always live in regret.

It's a sadness that overwhelms my heart,
a tear in my eye,
And no words left to protect that which I so dearly love.

Do we give up?
Since we've left ourselves defenseless, for it seems we're now the audience while the culprits became the entertainers.

We have no make a start,
the tears will only dry.
What remains of us when we're thus unable to ask help from above?