It shall end, very very soon But daily death eats us with a spoon. With sugar laced and buttered utterances And heartbroken feigned appearances, They say SOON, but how soon? Burnt, like fishes by a bad cook And reduced to stories for books. Conveniently, we have gone to war Our stories, to the world now a bore They say SOON, but how soon? If we must win this fight We must hold on tight Realise your neighbour is friend If we must defeat these fiends. We must fight with peace! Then soon, very soon.
Sharing Thoughts of Curried Rainbow.