From the fire

Out by the south sea fields
Out on the edge of town
That's where my father used to work
Before my fathers work burned down

Eighteen years on the books
With the mortgage almost paid
Now we stand and prey for luck
In the grey smokey shade

The world don't work that way
So the old men say

My father was a diver
He sailed the Baltic sea
He'd search the waves for survivors
Pulled a friend from a sunken submarine

Then he moved and met my mother
Helped raise my sister and myself
Times were hard but we were happy
Love worth far more than wealth 

The world don't work that way
So the old men say

I used to walk with my sister
We'd go from home to home
Hand out flyers for my fathers work
We worked for everything we own

Then times were good and times were joyful
We fought and earned our peace
Almost forgot all our struggles
But does struggle ever cease

The world don't work that way
So the old men say

Then the fire burned our business to the ground
And we count all we've lost
It was arson so the policeman found
For another's crime we paid the cost

The world just works that way
So the old men say

Who cares what the old men say
They've been beaten into fools
By a world that repaid their love
With a life only cruel

If we could come together 
Fight the tragedy and strife 
Wouldn't that be a world my dear

Wouldn't that be a life
Wouldn't that be a life.

Vera Tolstoj