Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast ***** from our latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned,
'For,' said the paper, 'when this war is done
The men's first instinct will be making homes.
Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes,
It being certain war has but begun.
Peace would do wrong to our undying dead, -
The sons we offered might regret they died
If we got nothing lasting in their stead.
We must be solidly indemnified.
Though all be worthy Victory which all bought,
We rulers sitting in this ancient spot
Would wrong our very selves if we forgot
The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,
Who kept this nation in integrity.'
Nation? - The half-limbed readers did not chafe
But smiled at one another curiously
Like secret men who know their secret safe.
(This is the thing they know and never speak,
That England one by one had fled to France,
Not many elsewhere now, save under France.)
Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,
And people in whose voice real feeling rings
Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.

Molotovs explode, windows shatter
But to them, it doesn’t matter.
Their sheltered lives are bliss, while little children die,
They sit in their bubble baths and let out a sigh.
They burn their coal to heat their homes,
While warplanes fly from aerodromes.
They clink their flimsy wine-filled glasses,
While the earth rots in a shell of gases.
They talk of truth, peace and love,
While praying to the skies above.
They ask for good things, for themselves.
While kids, teenagers, join cartels.
They “Save The Seals”, but they are blind,
The thing that needs saving is mankind.
A thousand cry out, but they claim to be powerless.
How would they feel if they were towerless?

You were searching in the skies
While I was out in space
The last starship "The Disguise"
It's launch pad now in place
The planets hold no secrets from us
Our galaxy , our home
Leaving behind aerodromes
Near the advancing sea
Flooding ancient catacombs
Earth regains custody
All creatures hold the grudge against us
Yet , sad to see you go
I can see them watching, as you look down once more
They're opening the cosmic window
As we're closing the astral door
I can't help but shed a tear
As you're coming up to me
Now our path seems not as clear
As immortality
So our planets hold no secrets from us
Our tragedy once more
We'll transplant our generations
As we've always done before
Perhaps if we do things differently
Then again, I guess, I suppose
Plus ça change , plus c'est la même chose