Howbeit as it seems, things have remained the
same;
The hurts of the people and all of their pain
Have become an epitaph in our veins
Even all of our efforts have ended up driving us
insane.
From the look of things, far away is still change.
Tears in the sun have become our fun.
Dining and wining while in our pants are guns.
Where on earth has our kindness gone?
In suffering and smiling is our fate born.
And until we find and place love high, we are
done.
Can we come back to the days with Good Samaritans?
Can we call for help and get it, not left to be
suntanned?
Where humanity will be humane enough to lend a
hand.
Where as a people will be poison to evil and good
be flame-fanned.
And until we become allergic to malign, healing
cannot befall our land.
Promises of a bang-up future but really, it is
exile.
Hopes that got us toiling in turmoil, we have
forgotten how to smile.
Each time they come back pleading, “Please just a
little while”,
“Just relax while we build the walls with tiles…
…and paint the world with lies”.
Tears in the sun have become our playground
Rejoicing in an emptiness where war is found,
Retiring to pain and misery where we have made our
lounge.
Who really can deport us from this fooling around?
Tears in the sun – Can anyone hear our welling cry
sound?
