The Road Is Lost by Whitlams
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the
lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother, playing outside in the
rain
Wishing it all to end
enraged by the slaughtering
thoughts explode like my heads a grenade and I drawed
the pin
talking to men with one choice to run off or defend
must punish the win, gotta let that gun off for ya kin
the only laws is 'no laws at all' once it begins
from the smell of blood violence is absorbed into their
skin
and the thoughts of kids caught up should torture
people to death
now freedoms with them see if them orphans see any
sense
Can you picture a little boy, dragging wood down the
lane?
Grandma waiting for him brother, playing outside in the
rain
Each day we hear the score, before not after shots of
war
And the road to him is love, but the love is never more
Not all true pictures of war are drawn in the news
so we painted a little more like George Gittoes do
jaded because we didn't hear them calls coming through
how we'd savor our days if we had to walk in them shoes
countries can't build without support for the youth
they lost when their most important resources abused
forming our views, and not picking up on the clues
inner-city blues stop many from listening to the clues
voices on mute, so we whisper this to you
no time for school, many children be enlisted to be
|
