I am tired of reading the news,
I burnt my Paper in my fireplace.
When will I hear the good news?
The news
That the roses can no longer be crushed by the monster.
The news
That the Little Red Riding Hood can no longer be stalked by a wolf.
The news
That those who have can no longer dictate the rules.
When will I hear that fire is no longer consuming my Jerusalem
When will I read that justice has come through?
Paper boy:
Don't deliver me the paper today.
Your paper has no news for me.
I shall mourn and grieve,
And if I talk I shall be brief.
I shall dress in black
I shall raise black flags.
I shall only speak of my tears --
No laughter,
No joy,
No purple suits,
No roses for me
Until the war stops
And till freedom reins.
Tell the widows to dress in black!
Tell the orphans to dress in black!
Tell the soldiers to go back!
Tell the politicians to stop the attack,
On the sons and daughters of peace,
On the flowers and the roses,
On the fig and olive trees,
And on the breezy hills of Jerusalem.
Peace,
Peace,
Peace shall come
War shall end.
The black flag shall come down,
And infants shall sing with the nightingales
The fear shall subside;
And love shall preside;
On the hills of Jerusalem.
I shall be in mourning until the good tidings;
The good tidings that Jerusalem
And that the vultures have left.
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