WHEN WE ARE BORED
Copyright 1999.
 
IT IS WHEN WE ARE BORED AND PERHAPS ALL ALONE
IT IS THEN WE SIGH AND BEGIN TO MOAN
BUT WE SHOULD COUNT BLESSINGS YOU AND I
AND HERE ARE SOME OF THE REASONS WHY
 
FIRST THERE IS THE ORPHANS IN WAR TORN LANDS
WHO REACH OUT FOR FOOD WITH GRUBBY HANDS
MOSQUITOES AND DIRT INFEST THEIR FACE
MOTHERS AND FATHERS GONE WITHOUT TRACE
 
THEIR SWOLLEN BODIES TOO WEAK TO BEG
SOME MISSING AN ARM A FOOT OR A LEG
OH WHAT THEY WOULD GIVE FOR AN HOUR OR TWO
JUST TO TRADE PLACES WITH ME OR YOU
 
AND WHAT OF THE MOTHER WITH CHILD AT HER BREAST
HER MILK HAS DRIED UP, AND WE SAY WE ARE STRESSED
SHE FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE FOR HER OFFSPRINGS SAKE
HER BARE FEET BLISTER WITH EACH STEP SHE TAKES
 
AND THE LITTLE OLD LADY. HER LIFE ALMOST DONE
WANDERING DAZED IN SEARCH OF HER SON
THE SOLDIERS CAME, SHE WILL NOT SEE HIM AGAIN
AND WE THINK THAT WE HAVE EXPERIENCED PAIN
 
TOMORROW WE WILL WAKE IN OUR WARM COZY BED
WE WILL NOT GIVE IT A THOUGHT AS WE REACH FOR THE BREAD
WE WILL GREET OUR NEIGHBOURS AS WE WALK DOWN THE STREET
WELL, THERE ARE NO MINES HIDDEN UNDER OUR FEET
 
THEY LIVE FAR AWAY AND WE LIVE RIGHT HERE
SO WE TURN A BLIND EYE AND WE LEND A DEAF EAR
WE SWITCH ON TV, OUR FRIENDS HAVE ARRIVED
THEN WE MOAN WE ARE BORED, AND WONDER HOW WE'VE SURVIVED
 
BURNT BY THE HEAT, THERE IS NO SHADE TO BE FOUND
CATTLE AND CORPSES LAY SCATTERED AROUND
DECEASE IS SPREADING AT AN ALMIGHTY RATE
BUT WE HAVE OUR PROBLEMS, THE POSTMAN IS LATE
 
OUR HAIR IS A MESS, THE TV LICENCE IS DUE
WE'VE GOT NOTHING TO WEAR AND ITS RAINING TOO
HOW DARE THE WEATHER DEPRESS US AGAIN
THEY ARE HAVING A DROUGHT, WE ARE KNEE DEEP IN RAIN
 
THOSE HUNGRY EYES STARE BACK FROM THE SCREEN
THEIR LAND IS BARREN WITH NO SIGN OF GREEN
OUR GRASS GROWS HIGH AND OUR TREES GROW TALL
WHO WILL ANSWER WHEN THOSE LITTLE ONES CALL
 
SO YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WHEN I TRY TO SAY
WE SHOULD COUNT OUR BLESSINGS EVERYDAY
AND REMEMBER THOSE IN A FAR OFF LAND
WHO'S LIVES ARE GOVERNED BY WARS EVIL HAND
 
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