Poetry

I have my own little piece of the world.
It has its problems, but nothin’ too much.
It has its pleasures and there’s more than enough.
And I’ll share them with you; I’ll share them with you.
 
So, put down that rifle, put down that gun.
Let’s take back those words when hatred begun.
Take down those icons we worship above
The cries of our own, the cries of our own.
 
Too busy in haste, too light on respect.
The world’s just a blur and light just a spec.
And we breathe in the dust of our leader’s corruption
And aid and abet in our own souls abduction.
 
Beguiled by the words we believe to be true.
For they’re said with a smile and, they’re said on the news.
No hidden agendas...?  We’re programmed to believe.
Are we just losin’ interest, or are we naive?
 
Who starts the fightin’?  It aint you or me.
I didn’t know that I hated, ‘til they planted the seed.
Now we’re runnin’ around shoutin’ death to them all.
When we’re all just as frightened and all just as small.
 
While the leaders of nations rub their hands with delight
‘cos they won’t shed their blood though they started the fight.
And the next generation will breathe in the dust
To further the aims of our own leaders lust.
 
I have my own little piece of the world.
It has its problems, but nothin’ too much.
It has its pleasures and there’s more than enough.
And I’ll share them with you; I’ll share them with you.