blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field,
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war,
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Living in a country that promotes people to consider themselves capable of judging blue skies from pain and a smile from a veil, and to condemn those who are judged to be “undeserving”.