sand

i feel the desert
chewing at my boots
i feel the desert of my soul
i breathe the sand and the flies and futility
as the radio spits out the daily death toll
and every dead child
turns a thousand more against me
and i see generations
born as my enemy
and if i survive
i can never go home
because no one remembers
the lessons of rome.

you keep on praying
to the same god they pray to
but he doesn't seem to be listening
to any of you
because there is no god
just chaos and silence
and power-mad priests
selling handbooks of violence

when your children starve
in your hiding-place
and you beg for an end
to this endless war
when you're inches from hell
in your patriotic cell
remember who voted
to
deadbolt
the
door.


©2007 briosphere

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