What is it all for

What do we have in store

A question often asked

An answer never tasked

The reason we are here

Is now becoming clear

It’s all happened before

Though on another shore

A people whom once free

Slowly start to not see

The danger coming on

To each and every pawn

It’s ninety nine to one

Holding a machine gun

It’s either be a slave

Attend Mass in a grave

Or disappear from site

Throughout this new long night

But what of little ones

Of daughters and of sons

The children’s chances fall

Like dice against the wall

They tumble on the walk

Talking heads only talk

Presenting nicey nice

Offering sacrifice

Praying to the gods

Trying to beat the odds

To show for all the ruckus

It’s nada Nothing Bupkis

It isn’t up to chance

But time and circumstance

It isn’t wrong for fearing

You’ll grind up in the gearing

A stern word to the wise

Keep opening your eyes

Or else you may not see

You’re keeping company

With those who’d do you harm

Never ever disarm

Keep your eye on the game

Hold fast a steady aim

The long shot at the start

The piercing of the heart

A thought A word A deed

A rutting romp to breed

Crawling out of the creft

The last real letter left