Fiddler on the Roof

I will get up again
I will brush off the debris
And stand up again

In dark corners you shall
Not find me cowering
Behind locked doors you will
Not see me hiding

I shall meet you at the
Teeming city centre
If you have a face
I shall offer you a cuppa
At my favourite cafe
If you have a name

Tomorrow I shall go to work
Again
Tomorrow I shall sit to create
Again
Tomorrow I shall laugh
Again
Tomorrow the sun will shine
Again

My centre WILL hold again
Things will NOT fall apart
I will brush off the debris
And stand up again

Paris. Baghdad. Beirut.
Salute!