Learn how you can reach them.
And from where trouble stems.
Open the doors to something more,
And show them what could be in store.

Then give your heart a shake.
Don't stop until it breaks.
Protect and give and share.
Don't hold back, if you dare.

Watch as your hope unfolds,
Give courage and be bold.
Pick your heart back up again,
Could be that it's on the mend.

Don't ask too many questions,
Don't beg them to believe,
Don't further their oppression,
Don't ask them not to leave.

some old men grow old
and great stories get told
of when they were young
and life's fun had begun
and how they lived well
with jokes ready to tell
and gave it their all
how they were good at 'ball
and what they would say here and now
we say rest in peace
and can have a calm ease
to know that their love was received
and though he is gone
his voice somehow goes on

but then sometimes instead
a young man is found dead
and his story was not set to end
tears come and grief flares
of the truth hard to bear

She screamed full of terror,
full of loss and void of hope.
She screamed like drowning
and without a sign of rope.
She screamed four times strong
and then sputtered a line.
She wanted vengeance and justice;
she wanted a life for a life.
Her screams were not deep
or strong, though few.
Her screams were weak
and tired and hurting through.
Her soul did then break,
her breath fell all too short.
I wonder what they'll put
on their police report:
"There's nothing to be done,
her eyes no longer cry.
Her only, newest wish is
that she could quickly die."
She lost her child today,
one simple, awful, concrete fact.
There's almost no chance
that she'll ever get them back.
A woman's heart gave up today.
I listened to her screams.
I heard the most awful sound,
in four long, haunting streams.