Oh, bright boy of another race
Tears stream down your young brown face
Of your parents and siblings there's no more trace
Why were you not born in another place?

This bright young lad sits beneath a tree,
Telling of the loss of his family
Speaks to a microphone but he's talking to me
And I sit comfortable in my land of the free.

His parents were hacked to death
And he watched them draw their last breath
Brothers and sisters all gone too,
Now what's a thirteen year old boy to do?