Where the mothers of sonsnever cease their weepingwhere the fathers of faith in the ground lie sleepingwhere the seeds of time have a whirlwind reapingoh
Jerusalem is.
Where the cobblestones
wet with the blood of ageshear the echo of wheels turning hist'ry's pages -
where the cries of fools stilled the words of sagesoh
Jerusalem is.'neath an olive tree branch anyone can listen
to the song of songs as the green leaves glisten.
Then a summer rain falls and the raindrops christen
what Jerusalem is.
And the river runs on and the world keeps turningand the water's cold
tho the sands are burningand the mountains know while we still are learning
what Jerusalem is.Oh
when will tomorrow's sons
tomorrow's daughters
never taste of the bread cast upon the watersand put down the sword that performed the slaughters
Where Jerusalem is ?Where the cobblestones
wet with the blood of ageshear the echo of wheels turning hist'ry's pages -
where the cries of fools stilled the words of sagesoh
Jerusalem is.And the river
oh
the river runs and the world keeps turning
and the water's cold
tho the sands are burningand the mountains know while we still are learning
what Jerusalem is.
And the river
oh
the river runs and the world keeps turning.