The Echoes From Our Past
Is the world mad
Or simply just gone bad.
Is this all new
Or sadly deja-vu?
Are we for real
When young lives we callously do steal;
What is the gain
With so much suffering and pain.
Does power and might
Make all things tolerable and right;
Are we so deafened to the propaganda of our day,
That we don’t search for a better, saner way.
Do we not see that peace will clearly never last,
Unless we hear the wailing echoes from our past
From those young men who fell in droves before,
So that we living would heed their voice once more.
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