I wish there was no such thing as set backs
I wish every child had a meal...
With level ground to walk upon,
The warriors may drink tea...
The shirt suits you, it matches your eyes,
I've fallen again, to my surprise...
Drones, every one of them as they sit there,
In their jeans and their skirts...
'Tis all a greater lie, a futile lie,
A fabricated lie that obfuscates the weakest...
Clouds of poverty
amidst them...
I am a man
And so I am expected...
The working man works away, his life is here...
Currency rules yet currency denies, still led by...
Why is there such violence
With all of this, I try to make sense...
Jacob Johnson works;
he is a working man...
Sorry for being happy or pretending to be
Sorry that I don't complain...
Out in the garden
Where the flowers grow...