Converse

Mud caked our Converse

As we sat on the bridge

With our legs hanging free

The water roared below us

And above us swayed the olive tree

Here we go to escape our cuts

Here we go to flee

For the East Wind cannot reach us here

We are shielded

From the pain and fear

When the mud cakes our Converse

Under the olive tree

We will sit

Hand in hand

And we will be free...

Until we fall.