SO TO SPEAK,
THERE ARE MISERIES UMPTEEN AROUND US.
AN AMPUTATED LEG, HOLLOW SOCKET
AN ORPHAN KID, CRIES OF AGONIES!
WAR TIME MISERIES FAR AWAY
BUT THE WIND BRINGS ECHOES
OF DOLEFUL HEARTS, HEAVY AS LEAD.
SHED A DROP DEAR FOR ITS OUR PAIN TOO!
RETARDED MINDS CRAFTS FOXY PLOTS
KNOWS NOT THAT BLOOD IS RED
YOURS OR MINE, THEIRS OR OURS,
MISPLACE BOMBS ON TOMBS.
ONE DEAD, TWO DEAD OR A THOUSAND
NEWS ON PAPERS THATS ALL RIGHT.
SO FAR ITS NOT YOU AND ME
NO ONE CARES AND LIFE GOES ON.
DO SHED A TEAR DEAR, FOR ITS OUR PAIN TOO.
No comments:
Post a Comment