What happened
in Afghanistan and Iran, Iraq,
will come back to haunt us.

If we're right and they are wrong
or
they are right and we've done
wrong
it really doesn't matter much
we've touched a match to a fuse now lit,

time enough to wallow in ****
and that's where we'll be
up **** creek
paddling frantically.

Troop carriers carrying troop barriers to block the flood of refugees,
(humanitarian missions if you please)

what a ******* joke
mirrors and no smoke without fires

well I won't fight
wrong or right
we've all got a need to live.

The sinking don't swim,
nobody tells them this as
they get on the boats for
a serving of bliss

heaven can *******
it's not helping anyone
or maybe it's home for
the new breed of drone
and droning on

Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq
are coming back to
haunt us

Staring at the half hanging ceiling
and the years of worn out paint peeling
leaving the wall with an unwelcoming feeling
like the bruises on one's skin from days of hard labouring

worn and grey with age's grouting
persistent damp dark molds sprouting
like a shadow on the verge of eating
the small space with nothing to place of a poor living

with not a morsel to eat and eyes tired from hours of weeping
still,  the hands reaching to tend and feed the dog who is bleeding
and yet not to a soul he speaks of his life's dreading
but to God alone he stands to plead.