our lovely earth is a petty hell,
ironic at some times,
cos most are suffering, and do tell,
depending, how much they whine,
nastiness is all about,
and flows like red, red, wine,
wake up to dull grey roses,
now paying for your crime,
so subtle is the chime,
a subtle hell of rhyme....
ah yet the times of love they linger ,
upon the screen of happiness,
the centerpiece has the soulful singer,
of love so sweet and tenderness….