Tzedakah Testo

The victim, the war, the blood on my door...no one wants that...
The guns, the bombs, this pitiful song...
The death, the stone, a cold empty home...
Sickness, disease, the broken families...

What would you do, if things turned out that way?
What would you say if things would never change?
So think of a way, we didn't have to stay the same...
How does it sound? It doesn't sound in sane
A word, a sign, our own peace of mind...that's what we want...
No more disease, a hope for world peace...
A move, a dance, a new fucking chance...
A breath, a sigh, a blue fucking sky...