Barely eight years old,
How was one to know,
The turmoil and the suffering
Felt by those in the great crowd?
Man stands in the road,
Blood upon his shoes,
The sky was heavy, falling grey
With bare lies and false truths.
The learn’ed spoke aloud,
The Masters cut them down.
Ideas of total power
Are the cancer in our towns.
A burning epitaph
Of history redone.
Forgetting yesterday will cut away
Tomorrows son.