I
Who watches the watchers
when  we have nothing left to watch
gone are the trees
weve left them all to rot
because the plants in my  window box are cut from plastic blocks
and the spite in my eye is free of charge,I've gathered it in locks  
and though their screaming of an oil spill , down along the docks
ill skip down  in my new  4x4 and cry about whats been lost

II

Im a hypocrite in progress
a fracture thats yet to show
and though my skin is smooth as wood, through uranium i shall glow
ive carved my bow from granite rock,
and counted all ive gained
because although as a race, we march and advance, i cant help but think where drained

III

gone are the days where i feel so safe that i can dance and sing,
and through  the fields explosions shall shriek and my ears will harp and ring
i am not afraid to loose my life
for what i believe is just
i just hope that if i walk no more,
it wont all turn to dust