Death once published in a far-away paper
Now knocks on the front door
Child you'll have to stay inside today
The countries are at war
But daddy I want to fly!
To fly!
Like the machines in the sky!
And away from fathers arms he prys
Waving his arms he runs through the fields
Across the world it is rather late
A cup of coffee and a raised finger
Ready to seal a childs fate
And in a far-away room
In control of many lives
An unheard boom
A child dies playing with machines in the skies
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