The Hiding-Place

Day is dawning and the sun is rising, along
With the distant sound of gunfire
I wonder if hatred must really belong
In this world where peace seems an impossible desire

Listen, somewhere a child is crying
Crying for the things it doesn't understand
Crying for the shootings and it's parents dying
Crying for the gun in the Nazi's hand

Sitting here in my old hiding-place
Where as a child I used to go
I can't but fear the moment I must face
The remains of what I thought I'd know
Forever, but that eternal clock of love and hope
Slowed down and stopped when blood reached the shore
All forlorn and confused I have to grope
In a world of emotions that are no more...

Copyright 1995 by Jeroen Holthuijsen

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