He was there one Sunday morning
At the corner of the square
In a freshly pressed tuxedo
In a simple folding chair
Just after curfew lifted
When everything was still
He played his cello
In the morning chill

In the streets of Sarajevo
A place of flame and death
This music so surprising
The whole world held its breath
And each morning he returned
To that spot and he would play
In the streets of Sarajevo every day

And every day he made me wonder
Where did he ever find
The music midst the madness
The courage to be kind
The long forgotten beauty
We thought was blown away
In the streets of Sarajevo every day

And many was the day
The soldiers asked him who he was
They warned him of the danger
In doing what he does
Many said that he was crazy
To risk his life in such a way
On the streets of Sarajevo every day
I wish someone could tell me
Who is crazy, who is sane
Those who stand in protest
Or those who drop these bombs like rain
Those who fill our lives with death
In this place where children play
On the streets of Sarajevo every day

So I come here in defiance
And to add a bit of grace
To try to ease the awful hatred
And the horror of this place
To remember there is beauty
No matter what they say
In the streets of Sarajevo every day

And every day I see them
Those who will not stand aside
Who refuse to be defeated
Who rage against the tide
They are a glimmer in the darkness
The rolling of the stone
A message in a bottle
From the distant shores of home

And every day he made me wonder
Where did he ever find
The music 'midst the madness
And the courage to be kind
The long-forgotten beauty
We thought was blown away
In the streets of Sarajevo
And in the streets of Tel Aviv
And in the streets of Jakarta
And in the streets of every city every day