I watched the thread   of my sister's life unwind,   then I sold her coat   to some old man I couldn't find,   and her bravery   cost us more than some son sailing to the crowded East;   it's cold as hell   in this freezing carboard cell.      We pass the days   selling bootleg bread and whey.   I'll tick the time on an arm   that's bleeding worse than mine.   And my bravery   cost us more than old men dying on a busy street;   there's blood in these veins,   so we'll trip a mine and watch it wake the tired day.      I sold my soul   to some old witch who knew my name,   and we broke our fists   on a blackened window pane.   And our bravery   cost us more than children playing in a road-side creek,   Eden's burnt   But we're to strong to feel the hurt.      God sees the wreck   of traintracks lined with listening dead,   and we sold our shoes   and gathered tin to pay our debt.   And our bravery   cost us more than some babe crying in a fevered dream;   it's worked so well,   and every lie we write is one more page toward hell.      I watched the thread   of my sister's life unwind.   And we gave her up,   to the howling summer night.   And your rosary   is cracked and bruised with all the love you gave to me;   it's worn, it's torn,   and every hook we bait is one more step towards war.