Colouring the Night Bright

We make the night bright
With stones and bricks and Molotov cocktails
We are the casualties of peace
Who long to live
In troubled regions

We are the moving dead
And we push against the thrust
Of authority. It is the thing
That gives our lives
Some meaning

We are born warriors
With no war to fight and peace
Is not good enough for us
We stand in crooked lines
And wait

For the battle to begin
And the dry heat of the fires
From the little war we started
Illuminates the frigid
Winter night