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Chill Bump
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Seven
He left his mother-land on an ugly note,
hugging his luggage close on a rubber boat.
He lost his wife, a soldier cut her throat.
He lost his life and watched his home going up in smoke.
Those you love the most could vanish in a few seconds.
Who wouldn't choose to pack up and find a new setting?
There he was, head spinning, feeling sad and nauseous,
on this small boat with no provisions, feeling mad exhausted.
When he approached the coast he had to act precautious,
but got captured by the forces with their flashing torches.
Escorted back and insulted, he had a fair run...
Back at home, back at war, back at square one...
He left his mother country for the second time.
He arrived, greeted by people in a line
'Go Home Immigrants!' written on their picket signs.
For some when you try to survive you commit a crime.
He made it past the cops, now he's in Europe's hands,
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crossing borders, hiding, heading up north, across the land
to end up trapped, emprisonned in one of them awful camps
behind barbwire, stranded in the north of France.
Hated and pointed at by Euroupean governments.
Every day extremists came to insult him and rub it him.
But he didn't listen to fools screaming. So used to their own freedom
they'd even forgot the true meaning. He got:
Hope - when you ain't got nothing to lose. You got:
Hope - you ain't in that position to choose. Your need:
Hope - when you just wanna keep your civility.
a piece of liberty, some peace and stability.
Hope - when you ain't got nothing to lose. You got:
Hope - you ain't in that position to choose. Your need:
Hope - when you just wanna keep your civility.
a piece of liberty, some peace and stability. Hope.
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