The perils of our modern world
My heart is yearning for the mountains,
My heart is yearning for the hills;
My soul sees triumph and disaster,
My soul, it cries; it won’t stand still.
The plague has almost come upon us,
My body is almost finished;
The heavy iron curtain falls,
The shadow overcomes.
The city strips your body bare,
It demands you give and it takes your share;
Ever watchful and alert,
Sleep, and you will pay your fare.
Man or woman, child or sheep,
I know not who I am, I bleet;
I have this, and I have that,
My rights, by law, you shall keep and meet.
Noble souls are rare, and few,
The dragons they aren’t slain;
The noble souls, they walked from view,
And few yet still remain.
My soul is dying;
His soul is dying;
Her soul is dying;
Our soul is dying;
A generation’s soul.
Our mind is ill; our body weak; our soul is dead; our father is slain...
What have I to live for, tell me?
What have I to strive for, please?
When our father is dead, and our mother is oedipal,
She holds her children tightly; they remain breathless.
The powers of darkness tempt the organisers with riches,
The leaders of the world accept,
The politicians greedily bargain for their share;
Nations surrender and are torn asunder,
They knew not who they were.
Is it the bird’s fault they eat ready-made bread?
Is it the men’s fault they choose the easy path?
Is it courage to weather the storm in the middle of the eye?
Or does Courage build a new home for the coming generations?
I’ll find my father,
The mountains call me,
Resurrect in Him we must;
What other recourse tells the story?
…Die, never again to be reborn.
