Prisoner in your own country,
borders gone but wounds still fester.
Lost your children, lost your freedom.
Lost your life, communist season.
Patiently awaiting rescue
from your own so near but far.
To the west your fathers weeping,
decades past you carry scars.
Cold war hot point, through the barbwire.
Soldiers wait to kill your son.
Will you stay or will you walk to him
through the minefields, through the killing fields.