Shrouded by the shrapnel,
   the delicious taste of hate
fuels the burning fire
   that the greedy men create.

Sifting through the silt
   clouded by the dust,
love becomes a legend
   rotting old like rust.

If not for the power
   then surely for the space,
land consumed like knowledge
   nothing left in its place.

Distracted by the glory
   of imposing harmony,
your conscious is left floating
   at the bottom of the sea.

Bodies in the soil
   as souls float up above,
what happened to the notion
   the world was run by love?

Searching for the answer in
   songs instead of violence
will teach the angry men
   to listen in the silence.

Explosions in the distance
   while you sit on your throne,
trying to build heaven
   so you can call it home.

Overlooking reason,
   big business is the key,
asserting all your dominance
   despite the people’s plea.

Creating too much sadness
   is also too much sorrow,
we must pray to see if
   there’s light left for tomorrow.