The Refugee cry

She cries from the depth of her soul


She has no place to call her home

In her arms an empty bowl

by her mouth a glimpse of whitened foam





What was once a city is now ruins

What was once a garden now rests the dead

From the soil cries out the blood of her siblings

And only close by she had her bed



She has no choice

Where can she go?

For help is slow

Help is slow

Help is slow.



She tries with every second of the day

To erase the haunting memories of fear

For what sins must she have to pay?

For what turmoil her frail heart must bear?



What was once hope has turned to despair

What was once light, now sets an angry sun

in the silence of a dense, dark night I heard a prayer

and the resounding shot of another gun.



She has no choice

Where can she go?

For help is slow

Help is slow

Help is slow.



She has no choice

where can she go?

For help is slow

Help is slow

Help is slow.