Refugee - Edgar Broughton Band

The promise was a word — the word was fine

Fine became a line — too fine to take it easy

Easy was food — food was warm

Warm became a weapon behind a locked door — with the cold turned on

Then the word was a lie

Turned Yellow — Fell down — Turned brown — Turned black — Black became a place

nobody want to go

They carried a star

Star was gold — pickled in a jar

Jar became a grave

Grave turned cold — with the heat turned on — they burned like coal

Coal was red — The red were dead

The dead became a legend

The rest left home

Home became a body around their bones