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Lyrics to Death Is A Job :
I'm running across an intersection to avoid the bullet of a sniper from the hill when I walk straight into some photographers:
they're doing their job, in deep cover.
If a bullet hit me they'd get a shot worth so much more than my life that I'm not even sure whom to hate:
the Chetnik sniper or these monkeys with Nikons.
For the Chetniks I'm just a simple target but those othersconfirm my utter helplessness and even want to take advantage of it.
In Sarajevo, death is a job for all of them.
Life has been narrowed down completely, reduced to gestures...a man covering his head with a newspaper as he runs across the same street, scared of a sniper's bullet.

The pink half-moon on the third joint
of my slender finger--
My body fragments are full of bread.
That's why I fear holding bread is why I'm here.
I seem to have lost my hads around here.
And where my eyes were,
now only holes appear
(We're now only holes up here). Look at me up