This is the Ministry of Defence The stairs and walls are all that's left Mortar holes let through the air Kids do the same thing everywhere They've sprayed graffiti in Arabic And balanced sticks in human shit This is the ministry of remains Fizzy drinks cans, magazines Broken glass, a white jawbone Syringes, razors, a plastic spoon Human hair, a kitchen knife And the ghost of a girl who runs and hides There's the bus depot to the right Levelled like a building site Those are the children's cries from the dark These are the words written under the arch Scratched in the wall in biro pen: "This is how the world will end"