Sand in My Joints - Wire



Our own correspondant is sorry to tell

Of an uneasy time that all is not well

On the borders there's movement

In the hills there is trouble

Food is short, crime is double

Prices have risen since the government fell

Casualties increase as the enemy shell

The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive

And sooner or later the end will arrive

This is your correspondant, running out of tape

Gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape



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