The Good In Me Is Dead

I sit at the border, this blanket my cover

I wait for my sister, I wait for my mother

The rain it is falling, but I do not feel it

I cant feel nothing, any more

A month ago they took my father

The village was asleep

Put a Russian gun to his temple

And put him in a jeep...(didn't get his breakfast)

If you put that lens in my face again

I swear I'll break your head

Sir the good in me is dead

In the hills of Prestina, my family worked the land

The images flow through my ticking mind, and fall like grains of sand

My brothers in those hills now, I saw him lying there

His eyes they did not see me, as my fingers touched his hair

As I kissed his dirty hair

If this is all that's left now

There's nothing to be said

And the good in me is dead

Last night the bombs came raining, I swear I saw his face

He came running cross the fields to me, in a safe and peaceful place

I woke shaking and thinking

About love that's in the world

And if there is no bigger picture

How its all obscene, absurd

So pass me a revolver

Pass me a book I've read

Pass me a fresh cut flower

And ask me what I dread

That the good in me is dead

I sit at the border, this blanket my cover

I wait for my sister, I wait for my mother

I wait for my mother

I must wait for my mother