Jude
14th February 2008, 23:06
Laying in his mothers arms
The child smiles, innocent,
But the bullets never notice.
Going by too quickly to care
What they find along the way
On their shirt-lived journey
Into the flesh of any obstacle.
What did that small boy ever do
To deserve the loss
Of the only one he really ever knew,
The only one who loved him.
That child grows to into a young boy,
Seeing the violence, seeing the hunger,
Seeing the people he loves
rip each other apart
with a bullet and a blade.
And for what?
What do they gain?
What do they think can be won
From the pain that they cause?
Why do they do what they do?
Is it in the name of some god?
Do they kill for the deaths of their family?
Do they fight in the name of peace?
Enslave their brothers
In the name of freedom?
Or Democracy?
What hypocrisy
has brought the world
into the state in which we barely survive?
Yet the few cry out,
With the ears of the masses,
‘These problems are not our own!”
Well? Whadaya think?
The child smiles, innocent,
But the bullets never notice.
Going by too quickly to care
What they find along the way
On their shirt-lived journey
Into the flesh of any obstacle.
What did that small boy ever do
To deserve the loss
Of the only one he really ever knew,
The only one who loved him.
That child grows to into a young boy,
Seeing the violence, seeing the hunger,
Seeing the people he loves
rip each other apart
with a bullet and a blade.
And for what?
What do they gain?
What do they think can be won
From the pain that they cause?
Why do they do what they do?
Is it in the name of some god?
Do they kill for the deaths of their family?
Do they fight in the name of peace?
Enslave their brothers
In the name of freedom?
Or Democracy?
What hypocrisy
has brought the world
into the state in which we barely survive?
Yet the few cry out,
With the ears of the masses,
‘These problems are not our own!”
Well? Whadaya think?