Where is he, the wounded soldier that walked the streets of nowhere land
Where does lie the drop of tear that was never wiped by a single hand
Where has gone the cries of hope that echoed in the empty souls
Where can I find that mark of peace in the clutter of bullet holes
Time has stood still for those eons when no one heard the songbirds cry
No one saw the springtime blossoms slowly wither in pain and die
Clouds of black smoke filled the sky, gunshots choked the silent dreams
The wind blew far carrying sounds of vulture’s laugh and muffled screams.
The rivers dyed in crimson red carried the message to the seas
The streets echoed silent cries of misery, agony and disease
The rumbling roaring war machines were all that had a presence there
Rest was hung in desperation in the shadow of a pall of fear
Waiting for the clouds to clear, for the blossoms to bloom again
The sun to rise in an orange splendour and ease away the pain
And so the days of the solitary girl looking through the broken glass
Is spent in hope that one fine day this blinding darkness will just pass.
