The hills find a peace

Locked armed guard posts

Safe from the screams

Of the children born as ghosts

Gates guns and alarms

Shape the calm of the dawn

Peering down into the basin

Where death lives on

Where young run foaming at the mouth with hate

Where burning batons beat the freezing who shake

Under the toxic sunsets they dine and toast

Their walls deny the terror faced by the children

Born as ghosts



Born as ghosts



One book and forty ghosts

Stuffed in a room

The school as a tomb

Where home is a wasteland

Take the razor wire

And thought is locked in the womb

The tales that tear at the myth of the dream

A suffering that shocks the lives off the screen



Born as ghosts