My son is fighting in Iraqnwhy even he's not surentonight I saw an African childnlying on her desert floornnothing underneath hernthat may have helped keep her alivennothing to set their hearts ablazenwhat they all drink to survivennToo much dollars and not enough sensenon the day I went to warntook a razor for the day I needed itnand a crucifix from my drawernsomehow managed to stay alivenand to forget I was a kidnother than that I can't really saynwhat earthly good it didnnwill Darfur invade my dreamsnthe way Kigali made it throughnwith eyes of little childrennstaring back at younnAs a soldier you're prepared to dienyou clear it with your headnI just got news from Baghdadnthat my only boy is deadnhe sent me the picture of that girlnhis last letter from God knows wherensaid he would have proudly died for hernif they'd only sent him therennbut we don't fight for hernnot sure we ever willnmy boy died so oil menncould sit around and swillnSudan sits like a drunken mannsleeping at the barncall a taxi to get him homenor let him sleep in his carnnwill Darfur invade my dreamsnthe way Kigali made it throughnwith eyes of little childrennstaring back at you