Stones in the Green River

People by the mountain stand
Waiting for the one that went
With a hand in another hand
Holding letters, never sent
They didn’t have to, though
‘Cause he never got too far
Running with a hope in his heel
Down the streets of Mostar

People by the river, never felt
They stood on the deadest stone
It broke as if in a fiery smelt
And left only alone by alone
They still waited, though
Even if he never got too far
Running with broken glass
Down the streets of Mostar

People by tobacco and unity
Both turning into horrid smoke
By man’s immature puberty
On which even their gods choke
They had stopped waiting, though
‘Cause no one can get too far
Running with a shot in his back
Down the streets of Mostar