Not the torturer will scare me
Nor the body's final fall
Nor the barrels of death's rifles
Nor the shadows on the wall
Nor the night when to the ground
The last dim star of pain, is held
But the blind indifference
Of a merciless unfeeling world
Lying in the burnt out shell
Of some Albanian farm
An old Babushka Holds a crying baby in her arms
A soldier from the other side A man of heart and pride Breaks ranks, lays down his rifle
And kneels by her side He binds her wounds He gives her food And calms the crying child
She gives him absolution then
Across the great divide
He picks his way back through the broken China of her life
And there at the kerb The samaritan Serb turns..
Turns and waves.. goodbye
And each small candle Each small candle Lights a corner of the dark...
Lights a corner of the dark
Each small candle
Each small candle
Lights a corner of the dark Lights a corner of the dark
Each small candle lights a corner of the dark
When the wheel of pain stops turning
And the branding iron stops burning
When the children can be children
When the desperados weaken
When the sea rolls into greet them
When the natural law of science
Greets the humble and the mighty
And the billion candles burning Lights the dark side of every human mind
And each small candle Lights a corner of the dark.
Writer(s): George Roger Waters
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