For whom do we all rise each day with what do we gain happiness For ourselves the masses say though this is folly with sadness
The marching soldiers who had gone our children who pranced to war Had carried our hopes and love on would die to please us never-more
No more the laughter to our ears left forever the taste of dirt As ground belayed the sound of cheers and feelings of others pride hurt
In a moment the lonely sound fell heavy on every mans ear As the truth echoed from the ground even the boldest shook to hear
For then the songs all ceased to play we looked to sky and then to friend They felt there nothing left to say for woe had summoned this the end
Tate Original Musical version http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/565963/
Will we never stop beating the drums of war ? Only to pave the streets of conquest with the souls of children. I wrote this after attending the funeral of a friends dear child. You know goodness has a sound to it. It is the laughter of children Who play unafraid in the streets of a town. Lacking that we have failed to secure anything. Goodness is not what we won't do. Nor some question of whom we exclude. It is the unselfish act of humanity. That sees ourselves in those we include.