Lines of Flight

[Intro – Female Spoken Word, warm, sad] “Nobody leaves home because it’s boring. They leave when the ground beneath their feet starts burning for someone else’s war.” [Verse 1 – Male Rap] Suitcase on the floor, half a life in folded clothes, photos, papers, little fragments of the place he calls his home. Street outside is dust and sirens, distant boom and drifting smoke, he pulls his daughter by the hand, says “We have to go, let’s go.” Door is open, keys still hanging, TV frozen on the news, silent anchor, rolling ticker, war in tidy, tidy views. He was just a mechanic, fixed up cars for half the block, never cast a vote on borders, never signed a missile’s clock. His city turns to “strike zone” in a briefing far away, on a slide it’s just a circle, on the ground it’s where he prays. The route he draws is not on maps they show in nightly shows, it’s the line from “we were living” to “we’re running” ’til who knows. [Pre-Chorus – Male Rap, Female low harmonies] He wonders, “Am I still a citizen or just a number now in flight?” Hoping somewhere, somehow, someone will say, “You’re safe tonight.” [Chorus – Female Lead, melancholic but hopeful, Male ad-libs] Lines of flight across the sea and land, from a burning neighborhood to an unknown helping hand. No one’s “illegal” when the bombs erase their street, the only crime is war that makes them get up on their feet. Lines of flight, we could be the bridge they need, or another wall of concrete, fear and greed. [Instrumental – Piano & pads, 8–12 bars] [Verse 2 – Male Rap] Platform three in some cold station, he steps off a crowded train, one backpack and two tired faces, eyes still full of desert flame. Announcement in a foreign tongue, posters he can’t even read, in a country arguing online if he’s problem or in need. One voice shouts “Too many!”, another whispers “Thank God, alive,” one hand points toward the border, one hand brings some food inside. His kid draws a yellow sun on the wall of some cramped hall, outside you scroll a headline: “Crisis: refugees at our wall.” But the real crisis started long before his boat set sail, in the boardrooms and the bunkers where they planned this deadly tale. When the Middle East ignites, ash does not respect a line, it blows into every window, every budget, every mind. [Pre-Chorus – Duet, more intense] He asks, “Can I be human here, or just a file for you to stamp?” Our answer’s in our actions – not the slogans on a camp. [Chorus – Duet, fuller] Lines of flight across the sea and land, from a burning neighborhood to an unknown helping hand. No one’s “illegal” when the bombs erase their street, the only crime is war that makes them get up on their feet. Lines of flight, we could be the bridge they need, or another wall of concrete, fear and greed. [Instrumental – Beat break, drums & bass, 8 bars] [Bridge – Female Spoken Word, clear, human] “You don’t have to understand every detail to be human. If bombs fell on your roof, you would run too. And you would pray that somewhere a door opens, not a fist.” [Verse 3 – Male Rap, rising, hopeful‑defiant] Imagine border posts with blankets, not just dogs and razor wire, towns that say, “We won’t fuel war, but we’ll put out what’s on fire.” Imagine same loud energy we spend on hating those who flee, turned instead on those who profit from the reason they must leave. We blame boats instead of bombers, blame the fleeing, not the cause, while the makers of these crises write themselves a round of applause. But we’re nations made of people, not of walls and not of guns, we can choose who we protect from – or who we protect and love. We are all one step away from drawing lines of flight ourselves, one bad turn of politics and we’re the ones who need that help. So let this be how peace begins, in small rooms and open gates: we refuse to fight their wars and refuse to share their hate. [Pre-Chorus – Both, softer then building] He asks, “Is there a place on earth where I can simply live again?” We answer with more than papers – we answer with “We’re your friends.” [Chorus – Final Duet, powerful, warm] Lines of flight across the sea and land, but we decide if at the end there is a cage or holding hand. No one’s “illegal” when a war destroys their street, and we can say “no more” to those who make them flee and bleed. Lines of flight – we will be the bridge they need, ’til no child must run from missiles just to breathe. [Outro – Instrumental, soft piano, Female Spoken Word, whisper] “No one leaves home lightly. But everyone has the right to arrive somewhere.”