In a world filled with drops of sorrow,
Aren’t we all drained in the moist of our fate?
Being in the thick of it, does it stick to our lives
Like the stolen honey of the humble bees
Their buzzing rage chasing our minds.
Thou shall not escape ones own failings,
In the thunderstorm of ones living deeds,
The crusade of our destinies, in greater or lesser degree,
‘No man can stand the pain that hysteria brings him’,
Only the wicked can find a way to partake in this dance of life.
In a world filled with drops of bombs,
A gazing thunder strikes a neighbour,
Collateral damage all around,
The horrors humanity has to face in the inkling of its own creations,
The curse and martyrdom of its own spell, its own ignorance.
To be a cliffhanger, is to be fearlessly aware that death shall arrive,
In the cages of our own deeds, the prisons of our own failings,
Can we rebel in the atonement of truth,
And set us free, when the time has come,
Until then, partake, be fearless, and death shall be prolonged.
Written for the victims of collateral damage, in a world where technology has outgrown philosophy.