Martin K Rae - Sunny Bogata

The Devil plays a game in streets where poverty's the rule
Blood drips from the needle, from the knife and from the womb
Only sleep can stop the crying, of the hearts around you dying
And smoke stained fingers itch to ride a leaf out of the gloom

O welcome to sunny Bogata
With districts of miles of a patchwork of lives
Their pieces torn out of love

Columbian legs, jet black caressing locks of hair
But cheapened into paper, pay the price, she'll take you there
It's a living trap of vice, need a heart that's cold as ice
Cos a lover-boy owns her life but all he wants is a money share

O welcome to sunny Bogata
With districts of miles of a patchwork of lives
Their pieces torn out of love

Oh where's the love the Pope taught you?
A city filled with cars and phones, richer people up the road,
Is Jesus' love reserved for us?
Could ours be the sacrifice
That turns their life?
That brings them life?
In Bogata

Narcotic cravings come anew, to lead the hands in what to do,
And others turn from flesh and blood into a bag of gold
It's a battle not a game, never hear your victim's pain
And the needle pays you well for seeking shelter in its world

O welcome to sunny Bogata
With districts of miles of a patchwork of lives
Their pieces torn out of love

Shanty streets and walls with plaster peeling off the stone
Children join the gangs because it's better than their home
And a meadow's from a story, never known all nature's glory
So the only way in sight to live just helps it carry on

Oh where's the love?

O welcome to sunny Bogata
With districts of miles of a patchwork of lives
Their pieces torn out of love

Written by:
Martin Rae

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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