Born to be crippled, violence to introduce you to your blood
the sound of bones to be your lullaby.
Bombs to widen your horizons, enlighten with uranium and
phosphorous to grow your spirit, in homes full of the smell of
corps and cruel death to guard you against the life
Unfairness of the life engraved in innocence of your eyes
cruelty so sharp that future stays shut behind great walls of sins
and you die there, and you crawl there, and you suffer there
photographers taking advantage of your misfortune
liers around you killing the only thing keeping you on your feet: hope.
And I am guilty of every drop of blood, and your every tear
and your every fear, and guilty I am for all the horror and suffer and pain!
Guilty of being helpless, being 6 billion too little, and my nights
are colored by your tears and your screams, oh dear children of war –
little and weak you are perfect to carry world’s perversion
small and quiet you are ideal for being ignored on the planet of Narcissus