The knives, the gas, the falling bombs
Look out midnight-here it comes
They'll blow your babies clear away
And laugh 'til vengeance comes one day
Then more will feel the fire from hell
As other babies burn and yell
And all for what do wise men say?
To be the best for just one day
I'll shoot you then you'll shoot me
Why don't we have a cup of tea?
The world is good and man is vile
Help me from this hell-crushed pile
by Richard Walker
All Rights Reserved
Copying, reprinting, or distribution of this poem, in whole or in part, is prohibited without written permission from the author.
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