People feel oppressed with looming denial
People are as furious as the bulls they’ve whipped
Same have found objects to focus on - to become the happy folks of the few
But most have had enough with this square world
The world of the living, the world of the dead
Enough of the chaos of the raging inferno
They walk with closed eyes as they float across the way
They float on the sidewalks as they make the everyday routine
In what eyes we see the depths of despair
Who can be brave, as pen triumphs over sword
In the past, we see those who wrote for well- being
In times of Kings when common power was depleted
Those who stand on the world pinpoint the way
Can the world unite, or shall it keep dividing into abyss?
Can the new age break the backs of routines with whips of conquest?
Or shall we fall into the grave we have dug so deep?