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On a field of red one gold star

Raised above his head

Raised above his head

He was not like any other

He was just like any other

And the song they bled

Was a hymn to him



Awake my little one

The seed of revolution

Sewn in the sleeve

Of cloth humbly worn

Where others are adorned



Above the northern plain

The great birds fly

With great wings

Over the paddy fields

And the people kneel

And the men they toil

Yet not for their own

And the children are hungry

And the wheel groans



There before a grass hut

A young boy stood

His mother lay dead

His sisters cried for bread

And within his young heart

The seed of revolution sewn

In cloth humbly worn

While others are adorned



And he grew into a man

Not like any other

Just like any other

One small man

A beard the color of rice

A face the color of tea

Who shared the misery

Of other men in chains

With shackles on his feet

Escaped the guillotine



Who fought against

Colonialism imperialism

Who remained awake

While others slept

Who penned like jefferson

Let independence ring

And the cart of justice turns

Slow and bitterly

And the people were crying

Plant that seed that seed

And they crawled on their bellies

Beneath the giant beast

And filled the carts with bodies

Where once had been their crops



And the great birds swarm

Spread their wings overhead

And his mother dead

And the typhoons and the rain

The jungles in flames

And the orange sun

None could be more beautiful

Than vietnam

Nothing was more beautiful

Than vietnam



And his heart stopped beating

And the wheel kept turning

And the words he bled

Were a hymn to them

I have served the whole people

I have served my whole country

And as I leave this world

May you suffer union

And my great affection

Limitless as sky

Filled with golden stars



The question is raised

Raised above his head

Was he of his word

Was he a good man

For his image fills the southern heart

With none but bitterness



And the people keep crying

And the men keep dying

And its so beautiful

So beautiful

Give me one more turn

Give me one more turn

One more turn of the wheel



One more revolution

One more turn of the wheel

On a field of red one gold star

Raised above his head

Raised above his head

He was not like any other

He was just like any other

And the song they bled

Was a hymn to him



Awake my little one

The seed of revolution

Sewn in the sleeve

Of cloth humbly worn

Where others are adorned



Above the northern plain

The great birds fly

With great wings

Over the paddy fields

And the people kneel

And the men they toil

Yet not for their own

And the children are hungry

And the wheel groans



There before a grass hut

A young boy stood

His mother lay dead

His sisters cried for bread

And within his young heart

The seed of revolution sewn

In cloth humbly worn

While others are adorned



And he grew into a man

Not like any other

Just like any other

One small man

A beard the color of rice

A face the color of tea

Who shared the misery

Of other men in chains

With shackles on his feet

Escaped the guillotine



Who fought against

Colonialism imperialism

Who remained awake

While others slept

Who penned like jefferson

Let independence ring

And the cart of justice turns

Slow and bitterly

And the people were crying

Plant that seed that seed

And they crawled on their bellies

Beneath the giant beast

And filled the carts with bodies

Where once had been their crops



And the great birds swarm

Spread their wings overhead

And his mother dead

And the typhoons and the rain

The jungles in flames

And the orange sun

None could be more beautiful

Than vietnam

Nothing was more beautiful

Than vietnam



And his heart stopped beating

And the wheel kept turning

And the words he bled

Were a hymn to them

I have served the whole people

I have served my whole country

And as I leave this world

May you suffer union

And my great affection

Limitless as sky

Filled with golden stars



The question is raised

Raised above his head

Was he of his word

Was he a good man

For his image fills the southern heart

With none but bitterness



And the people keep crying

And the men keep dying

And its so beautiful

So beautiful

Give me one more turn

Give me one more turn

One more turn of the wheel



One more revolution

One more turn of the wheel

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