God, I saw burning homes
While three different prayers raise to you
Street lamps illuminate a ghost town
Showing up small circular bullet sized fissures on grey walls
Children plays during all day
Often their game was interrupted by
A shrill warning sound
A shrill warning sound

Deafening and immediately afterwards
Lifes wriggle out in the darkness of a cold cellar
In hidden water rat’s company
Pregnant dampness penetrates old wood
Forming tiny drops on cylinders
Already empty
Abandoned by months
Rotting their souls, rusting their scorn

Press closed to their old and heap stuff
Composing the superfluos
The underground rubbish will last
I was eight, God
All seem to be surreal

I couldn’t understand Death
She sorrounds me
I could breath her
I pick up dead flowers
Under apathetic sky
Never free
Shelter
Among lost and deformed people
Under combat aircraft roar
In the darkness of your lord

Spite of our stubborn naivety
Crawl to pray you
Play hide-and-seek
The ones to hide yourself
Spite of our stubborn naivety
Bow to pray you
Spreading peace but sick
The ones to hide yourself

Abandoned by my war
Patience was our force
Abandoned by my force
Existence was our war