1942, and bombs are falling, falling
your body is limp already
but warm like bread we baked
they always said you'd grow to be taller than your sisters
but here you lie and you will always be the smallest

I never thought I would see so much of your blood
this is not human and this is not what is supposed to happen
there are little holes in your torso that were not there before

and still the bombs are falling, falling
and still mothers and fathers and children
and the very very lonely
are screaming, screaming

and I am crying, crying
sobs torn with my agony
from my bleeding throat
as you lie limp on my lap
and there is nothing left of you
and scarcely anything left of me

*have you not done enough?
this is what you have done and yet you want MORE
but this is all you can do is this not enough for you
please STOP you have done EVERYTHING to me
and yet your bombs are falling and the significance
of this little boy in my arms is nothing
but how can the destruction continue
when everything is already over?