Wednesday, 26 September 2007


It’s ringing in the night,
Through a hole in the air.
It’s in our mother’s sighs,
But it ain’t exactly there.

It’s in our father’s wars,
It’s in the acid showers.
Between our cries for help,
Stuck in random hearts.

It’s in my baby’s eyes,
It’s burning like chrome.
Across these bruised skies,
Like a message, unknown.

It’s in the morning sun,
In the pin of the grenade.
Across the roads we’ve walked,
When we were left astray.

It’s in the dead man’s ears,
In the general’s drum.
It’s the third world’s fear,
Like the sound of the gun.

You can run for miles,
Turn every page.
When you know the answer,
Don’t be afraid.

Don’t hide behind the wall,
With the things that you’ve learnt.
Please heed the call,
Before the warning comes.

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