Eighteen years of walking And still the violence roars Children of children now walking the same roads seeking shelter Fleeing to squalor, overcrowded courtyards or haphazard verandas

Mothers, children, hand in hand Under the cloak of darkness to avoid the raids, wanton attacks Brutality, forced to commit atrocities Against their own, their brothers, sisters Themselves.

Violence as a way of life Child soldiers, porters Made to bear the child of those they fear most To survive, to live to starve To walk again another night.

Eighteen years of walking and still the violence roars While the world talks of progress While leaders promise aid Uganda’s compelling story of hope Trampled in the footprints of those Who have gone before And those who will walk tonight.