Remember this smooth coffee, this crisp biscuit

It will never be without weevils or sand

If you manage to return, plan to walk your dog

It won’t matter where your foot lands

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That glint of silver in the sky’s not a jet nor a plane

With every sparrow overhead you feel yourself going insane

You do it for your nation, but you want to shoot your foot

The propaganda can’t make you forget the faces streaked with soot

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Child’s play one day – murder, barbarism the next

Read for leisure turns into analyze the text

A car backfires and you’re suddenly a nervous wreck

Defense mode, camouflage, hit the deck

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You used to stress over pimples and zits

But you thank the lord that you still have your arms

Playing sports and building forts – they’ve lost their appeal

The simple things – eating, singing – they’ve lost their charm.

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