There's No Need of a House Here

How can a man live In a place where lives hardly thrive? We earnestly wait in vain, The things that will never be of gain. So the weak becomes weaker, As the troubles become thicker. So, everytime we cry, As the day gets deeper; And compelled to fry Our hopes in the burning heater. How can we live In a place ravaged with cruelty? Mindlessly, Men are stabbed to death, Yet women are still giving birth! For their children to be abused Never to be rescued. As fathers sob in hopelessness, Because their offsprings roam the streets And mothers wail in helplessness; As their children scavenge for what to eat O! Who can deliver us From the tenacity of death? This life does not belong to us; This one that we live now, Where we're suffocating, From the stench aroma Of this bitter-sweet soup. Then, I was really glad to hear That the grave was beckoning; For there's nothing here, So spectacular and appealing Any bait that I would prefer To that place beyond Full of eternal funfair.