I can hear the war
Being fought through the radio
Somehow it's more
Real now
Unlike anything Americans have fought before
A dark-eyed man
Is crying foreign tears
On a dirt floor
Giving new meaning to dirt poor
Feeling his daughters' faces
Through years of calluses
He's got three little girls
That his failed eyes can't find anymore
The bullet in his forehead
Took his sight
His three little lives
His whole world
And that's probably not the worst
On either side

I'm in a warm bed
Winter in the midwest
Drifting off to foreign correspondence
Thinking
I am out of mascara,
Cheez-its, toilet paper
I need to buy more
And I'm craving Starbucks
Chai tea
Sounds so good right now
The gas in my car
Probably came from an olive-skinned backyard
I'm not doing anything to help
I should move to Canada
Where I'll feel less responsible
For indirectly taking lives
I'm disappointed in myself
For buying new shoes
Enjoying good *****
Taking it for granted
That I got into a good school
I want it to show
Want people to know
That I stand for more
Than my selfish
First world problems