The Tempest
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.
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