R.C.8
Steve Giles
I see hate floating down through the trees
Landing smack upon a raging sea
Madmen down below get stuck in oil
I'll move before my blood starts to boil
In case I see something I'll then regret
Everybody loves a little baby
Don't you tell me now that that's a lie
But what I don't understand is why
When that child grows up he's made to cry
Couldn't they just sit and work it out now
Words stream fast now that the plug has blown
Like a lava flow in every home
Words of wisdom nowhere can they be seen
All I want to do is wipe the slate clean
They can't seem to grasp the mystic rights
That we're left, inherited each night
On the pillow dance the ghosts of millions
People that we thought long since departed
Now, before my eyes, I see our deaths