Every day, it shows up on my doorstep:
Two men shot because they hugged each other.
Children used as instruments of war.
I read it, recycle it, try to forget.
Two men shot because they hugged each other.
Freedom of the press reports the price of freedom.
I read it, recycle it, try to forget
the four-year-old's eyes, the grief of sons and mothers.
Freedom of the press reports the price of freedom:
fighting for faith, no hope left for peace.
The four-year-old's eyes--the grief of sons and mothers--
Wonder what the next day's news will bring
Fighting for faith, no hope left for peace,
children used as instruments of war
wonder what the next day's news will bring.
Every day, it shows up on my doorstep.
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