This Time
Violence of every kind,
In spirit that is lost,
Flagrant to extol the mind,
And therefore at a cost,
History that’s godless spent,
In crushing dreams below,
Decapitate the mind that’s meant,
To be what we might know,
Power twisted on its side,
Contorted with such greed,
Beastly cravings must confide,
The bowels of human need,
Godless as we carry on,
Bereft a lonesome chime,
Babies born another dawn,
Change they say this time.
©david byrne oct’12
Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2012
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