Not the torturer will scare me
        Nor the body's final fall
        Nor the barrels of death's rifles
        Nor the shadows on the wall
        Nor the night when to the ground
        The last dim star of pain, is held
        But the blind indifference
        Of a merciless unfeeling world

        Lying in the burnt out shell
        Of some Albanian farm
        An old Babushka
        Holds a crying baby in her arms
        A soldier from the other side
        A man of heart and pride
        Breaks ranks, lays down his rifle
        And kneels by her side
        He binds her wounds
        He gives her food
        And calms the crying child
        She gives him absolution then
        Across the great divide
        He picks his way back through the broken
        China of her life
        And there at the kerb
        The samaritan Serb turns..
        Turns and waves.. goodbye

        And each small candle
        Lights a corner of the dark...
        When the wheel of pain stops turning
        And the branding iron stops burning
        When the children can be children
        When the desperados weaken
        When the sea rolls in to greet them
        When the natural law of science
        Greets the humble and the mighty
        And the billion candles burning
        Lights the dark side of every human mind

        Each small candle
        Lights a corner of the dark...

Roger Waters

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