I slowly walk with grenades in each hand,
passed by exploding villages, broken fences
and timeless stances
Laundry stained on lines
doing backyard dances.

Dropped bombs echoing the distance,
around corners, shattering windows,
flashbang, all clear,
bullets fly by barely missing us.

See these grenades, the ones I still hold tight,
wrapped up carefully, I can't unwind,
look at me mental
simple and blind.
I'll pull the silver pins all in due time.

Why do I have to walk alone?
Take a look around this place
and stare into the unknown,
I do not recognize this place at all,
this house of sorrow and senseless cold.