How easy is it
to put a gun in hand,
How easy is it
to be a man,
and in times like these
it is hard to reason
and understand,
with minds
that are full
of dope,
crazy notions of hope.
Can you describe
the feeling
when you are going down
this slope?
Now you are down
with several others
whose name and
face
you know not
but,
whose life and
fate
you somehow chose.
You,
the chosen ones,
they,
also the chosen ones,
part of someone else's war,
farce;
The gods whose face
remain unknown
yet
dictating
the enemies sworn.
Your cause,
their consequences,
what does all that
make of us,
spectators of your deeds,
of the hatred
that you sow,
the hatred
that you feed.
"Will you stop
if the victory
is yours?"
Why do I
always
ask this question,
perhaps because
you don’t leave
a choice.
Questions,
so many of them
cross my mind,
all useless,
inconsequential,
irrelevant,
pretentious and sham.
How easy is it
to take a life.
How easy is it
to terrorize.
How easy is it
to talk of pain and sadness,
macabre and gloom
to write these lines
of wrong and rights,
before
finishing the notes
and
switching off the lights.
to put a gun in hand,
How easy is it
to be a man,
and in times like these
it is hard to reason
and understand,
with minds
that are full
of dope,
crazy notions of hope.
Can you describe
the feeling
when you are going down
this slope?
Now you are down
with several others
whose name and
face
you know not
but,
whose life and
fate
you somehow chose.
You,
the chosen ones,
they,
also the chosen ones,
part of someone else's war,
farce;
The gods whose face
remain unknown
yet
dictating
the enemies sworn.
Your cause,
their consequences,
what does all that
make of us,
spectators of your deeds,
of the hatred
that you sow,
the hatred
that you feed.
"Will you stop
if the victory
is yours?"
Why do I
always
ask this question,
perhaps because
you don’t leave
a choice.
Questions,
so many of them
cross my mind,
all useless,
inconsequential,
irrelevant,
pretentious and sham.
How easy is it
to take a life.
How easy is it
to terrorize.
How easy is it
to talk of pain and sadness,
macabre and gloom
to write these lines
of wrong and rights,
before
finishing the notes
and
switching off the lights.