The Photograph (Omagh)

I saw the photograph, a prelude to the blast;
No faces, no lives, no families, no pasts,
No hopes but those left in the rubble of Omagh.

I saw the aftermath, cold upon the screen,
I heard the empty voices, the trying to be
Understanding - we who have lost nothing

There are no words, no words for this,
There are no reasons that you can give,
There is no sense, no sense to this,
Why can't it end? Why can't it end?

For the flowers the wind has scattered,
For the children whose lives you've shattered,
For the lover whose arms lie empty tonight.

I heard "The Island" and shivered at the words,
Songs of protest can never end the hurt
All the strains of truth are lost on the wind.

There are no words, no words for this,
There are no reasons that you can give,
There is no sense, no sense to this,
Why can't it end? Why can't it end?

For the flowers the wind has scattered,
For the children whose lives you've shattered,
For the lover whose arms lie empty tonight.
For the hopes and the dreams you've wrecked
For your own sad souls twisted and bent,
For the tears on a father's face tonight,
Why can't it end?
Why can't it end?

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