THE TEMPEST 1 For a twisted tale And blinded pride, We are taken by the tempest, Fighting everyone, anyone But for what? A war, For the furtherance of a man’s folly Over the graveyards That will give no rest, Even to the dead. 2 A little spark, is how it starts Before our kith and kin Are often dislodged By the torrent of despair; Our children and all Are soon required to starve But for what? Their part of expense in a war To obtain a graveyard That gives no rest To our dying people. 3 The blast of hot air Could be the doing of another Yet our silence Shall spread the plague of death, And the future May well be gone in flames And all for what? But the sake of a graveyard That can give no rest To the living or the dead.