They melted the bells of Paris
they melted the bells of Rome
turned them to canons and sabers
and the young men never came home
no, the young men never came home
The bells used to ring every morning
and for every holiday
the town came together
regardless the weather
to celebrate, mourn, and pray
But the war machine needed the metal
and needed the men to bear arms
so they lowered the bells and they hauled them away
and the young men they took from their farms
They melted the bells of St. Petersburg
of Constantine and also of Rome
turned them to cannons and sabers
and the young men never came home
no the young men never came home
The families struggled to make it
despite all the men gone to war
their animals died and their women all cried
when the young men never came home
The tone of the past is no longer
the music of bells is now gone
the sound of a place, the wars have erased
all we hear now are the bombs
They melted the bells in Lisbon
In Florence and Venice as well
Turned them to cannons and sabers
for storming the gates of hell
The bells used to ring every morning
and for every fine holiday
They’d bring us together, regardless the weather
To celebrate, mourn, and pray ~
Lions Mane 