“So, you want me to sort your troubles,
All your small, pointless worries?
“I could, and I suppose I should,
But right now I’ve my own quarries”

“What about the rest of the world?
Ever think about them?
How about the starving children
To which the world has condemned?”

“How about the soldiers?
The ones fighting your wars?
The wounded, and the dying,
Knocking on Deaths door?

“Shall we speak about the homeless
And the lives they could’ve had?
With not even a place to sleep
Now that, my friend, is sad.

So the rest of the world has bigger problems
That could be fixed if we dare,
So the “problems” that you have
Is of a subject I do not care."