She had a fascination with broken countries
She sung about wars
And letters which brought bad news
The end of innocence
And childhood which didn't bloom
She'd tell me of the ghosts in her heart
And the sins of her past
How she got away
But the poverty of her soul still lasts
There are people in her mind
Who died to be remembered
Her people are scattered limbs
Scattered seeds afraid to be planted
On foreign soil which prepared the pesticides for her homeland