The ceasefire ceased at midnight and the battle lines were drawn, so we gathered
up our history had the children dressed at dawn, there wasn't any petrol so we
used the can to fill up with water from the U.N. tank, couldn't help feeling no-one
gave a damn as we left our happy homeland.
Our happy homeland through the sniper fire and smoke and as we left our happy
homeland we felt like God's cruel joke.
Took the clothes that we stood up in, left the mobile phone behind with the
P.C. and the fax machine that revolutionised our lives, couldn't use the car
so we pushed the pram out over the bridge where we first held hands, down the
culvert to the transit camp and we left our happy homeland.
And we thought of our neighbours as the shelling began, holed up in their cellar
with their home-made jam and we couldn't help feeling no-one gave a damn as
we left our happy homeland.
© TV Smith