What's there to celebrate?

When you're standing out in the open,

With nowhere to go,

Where do you go? What do you do?

You don't even know.

When you're standing out in the open,

With no horizon to see,

When your future's taken away from you,

When you're forced onto one knee.

When you've been beaten until you drop,

When the last bit of energy's gone,

You feel like you've been wrenched away,

You feel like you've been robbed,

Of the freedom to walk upon the grass,

Of the freedom to breathe the air.

Instead you're confined in a filthy room

It seems that nothing's fair.

What's there to celebrate?

When the sweat rolls down your back,

When your muscles strain with pain,

When you haven't washed for weeks,

When your blood trickles down the drain.

When the days, months, and years pass by,

You live on a one-day meal,

A slice of bread, and rotten food,

Then starve as an extra ordeal.

The worst thing is, and this you know,

That no one knows what it's like,

To be the survivor of an endless war

To be the one who suffers for the rest.

Although the war has finished,

There's another in your mind,

The pain being away from those you love,

Why have they left you behind?

It's a story of endurance,

It's a story of betrayal,

It's when the world's gone against you

You've lost the will to live.

What's there to celebrate?