Pages are written harshly in the ink of pain
Where are we running without any worldly gain
Voting for causes without any heart in mind
Giving up our soul with no human kind
With eyes on a prize without a return
No faith in each other we will all truly burn
Building bridges with a gate on either side
As we tuck away the fallen in the shadows to hide
Earning riches but always wanting more
But what did we win when no one was keeping score
Taking a leap when we should have leard to fly
Ctossing a river while we watch others drown and die
Holding a sign but now knowing the meaning
Giving ourselves but never with any feeling
Grasping tightly but always letting go
Claiming the truth to hide a lie for
show
Listening to the people never hearing a word
Winning it all only to do the most absurd
Taking full joy in others painful past
Speaks volumes of yourself so vast
Shaking a hand but only for today
Knowing deals that were signed will be torn away
Seeing now who you are we can only cuss
Once believing you were suppose to be the best of us
Mr Edward Leard
mocked the old man with a beard.
He is the jester
that fears reading book of Easter.
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