Balkan Refugees

BALKAN REFUGEES The smoke and guts come rolling through the hills obnoxious to the senses, life of death; exonerated from all debt and bills we stand, and try to find a second breath. All debits--liabilities are gone all burned to ashes drifting to the sky, and we can't stop, we must be moving on or we've been told, our time is now to die. A baby breaths a bleak and wordless plea not understanding we are all to blame, for roads we take, and bombing we can see and life to come will never be the same. There's war and peace, and both are every day, and we still walk to find a place to stay.