Of countries and nations,
A real bloody mess!
These men without conscience,
Have no interest,
In helping the people,
Not even in jest.
The murderous scoundrels,
That hound us to death,
Are Beasts without feelings,
That give us no rest.
Of countries and nations,
A real bloody mess!
These men without conscience,
Have no interest,
In helping the people,
Not even in jest.
The murderous scoundrels,
That hound us to death,
Are Beasts without feelings,
That give us no rest.
The Time that we all borrow,Is Never here to stay.
To Be,Nurture, good feelingsPeace, stability,Love is the best feelingFollowed by sincerity.
Of Beauty the projection,That all can see and hold,But in all it’s perfection,Still more does give the Rose,The perfume of seduction,That no man can compose.
And hit the trailOf desperation and defeat?While there is still,Art, Poetry and Love,Sensitive Souls,Will still be able to standOn their own two badly beaten,Romantic feet.
They write aboutChanging,Almost everythingWhen they very wellKnowThat all will stayThe same,Anyway.Poor Poet DreamersWhat a way,To waste their day…
Both take time to well create,Even more to’interpretate’