A blanket of stars sweep the coming night--
Hollywood bound-- their castles and sacred walls.
Gossip and bribery become their industry tools,
the crucifixes they wear-- another piece in their collection.
Their ancestors may not have been so black and white,
a widescreen decorated with such colourful fools,
blood diamond draped gowns and endangered shawls--
printed dreams with cabbage green in sight,
those raised walls must some day crumble
betraying love that was once so humble,
the minutes turn into hours, days, months--
a plugged in telephone does not ring once.
The sky above them--a clear azure blue,
yet only blackness can they ever view.