Wise men fiddle with the inane
While the world quietly burns
Lookouts distracted by the mundane
Neath the surface the water churns
It will all end in tears
This tragic farce we call our own
As all of the hopes and fears
Assemble within the bleak unknown
How much longer do we have before
It all tumbles to the ground?
How much longer can we ignore
The animosity which abounds?
The world grows ever more polar
The lines of battle drawn in sand
Our posturing makes the world colder
And leaves the needy with empty hands
We're filled with hate
While the world needs love
Blind to the fate
We've drunken of
Be the love the world's forgot
Be the hope which shines undimmed
Be the grace that cannot be bought
And show the darkness it shall not win
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