The hills find 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
One book and forty odd
Stuffed in a r
Ah, the school as a tomb
