Refugee

You're a refugee, almost proud to be free

But you're just about imprisoned by your poverty

You've built a home from the ashes of the old

And in a bag you still carry almost all that you own

Your guard is up and you watch for forked tongues

You're careful about the careful changing in the streets

There's a different beat to the rhythm of your heart

And it carries the rhythm of machine gun

In time, maybe you will see people begin to agree

And drink tea with someone you haven't seen and

In time, you still might look out from behind your wall

At your children in the street

People's insides can be the hardest matter of all time

Bodies can be broken, but thoughts still carved in stone

From rock to rubble and rubble to dust

A speck of sand in your eye won't keep you from much

The words are fire burning all the time

Ashes in the air, on our skin, in our hearts

Maybe these bitter tongues still might make a sweeter sound

But we're waiting for the movement of this moment to arrive