The Poet

What a poignant massacre this is
So speaks the poet with a pencil in his fist
And as he takes in what's around
He pays no mind to all the corpses on the ground
But soon the bombs return
And he's got no place else to turn
And he can smell the children burn
And he gags

So he runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away

Just then he meets two hopeful eyes
A girl lying there who's barely half his size
And as she reaches for his hand
He shows in silence just precisely where he stands
As his knees begin to shake
And his will begins to break
He sees an opening to take
And he flees

Yes he runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away
He runs, he runs so far away

Soon he can't sleep at night
Just thinks of her
Lying there with ashes in her hair
He tries to reason
But he's never sure
So all he does is lie awake

And now, well now he's gone away
But just where I couldn't say
He's finally found a place to stay
He's finally found a place to stay
And now he's gone away
But where I couldn't say
He's finally found a place to stay
He's finally found a place to stay