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Kevin Carter died a suicide in Johannesburg in 1994

We honored him for going in and showing us the face of war

But he would not come out again

He was only thirty three and hollow haunted were his eyes

In his hand a cigarette, wasted worried cant forget

Smoking, weeping, cursing flies



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

And I didnt understand, oh I didnt understand

And I didnt see the blood on my own two hands



At a feeding camp for refugees, he photographed a dying baby girl

A vulture stalked her patiently, that picture told around the world

Of famine, war, and misery

And when his camera work was done, he chased the vulture on its way

And he sat crying, lost and stunned, in Africa on stony ground

Wondering who was the bird of prey



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

He was crying for the little child, crying for his friends

He was crying for the blood on his own two hands



The fascinating face of war experienced from a distant shore

And each day curious for more,

How does it look, what happened there,

But the message took the messenger



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

And well never understand, oh well never understand

Until we look and see the blood on our own two hands

Kevin Carter died a suicide in Johannesburg in 1994

We honored him for going in and showing us the face of war

But he would not come out again

He was only thirty three and hollow haunted were his eyes

In his hand a cigarette, wasted worried cant forget

Smoking, weeping, cursing flies



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

And I didnt understand, oh I didnt understand

And I didnt see the blood on my own two hands



At a feeding camp for refugees, he photographed a dying baby girl

A vulture stalked her patiently, that picture told around the world

Of famine, war, and misery

And when his camera work was done, he chased the vulture on its way

And he sat crying, lost and stunned, in Africa on stony ground

Wondering who was the bird of prey



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

He was crying for the little child, crying for his friends

He was crying for the blood on his own two hands



The fascinating face of war experienced from a distant shore

And each day curious for more,

How does it look, what happened there,

But the message took the messenger



Hail Mary, full of grace, I cannot forget his face

And well never understand, oh well never understand

Until we look and see the blood on our own two hands

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