It's hard to be a refugee
Sitting in this shabby old train,
nightmares running through my brain.
The smell of death, the smell of blood,
people full of scars and crud.
Feeling helpless, left behind,
my further way not clear defined.
All that I could take from home,
I carry in a backpack,
The world can see us on TV,
we are helpless refugees.
Thinking of a better place,
where you get help in every case.
See no blood and see no scar,
laughing children, and no war.
Full of hope what future will be,
I left my friends and family.
I hope to see them all one day,
in a better world, at the end of my way.
The homeland now is left behind,
but will my destiny be kind?
Beyond the force to live in fear,
I ask myself if they want me here.
Stuck between my inner pride,
and the fear I cannot hide.
My homeland destroyed of war and pain,
the pictures rushing through my brain.
Open your eyes and you will see,
it’s hard to be a refugee!