Must we all die?
I heard their poverty than ours is more:
Ceiling leaking, or more like seeking
To be sealed, saved and sheltered,
such that the heat leaves them frozen.
Pity City is our mansion distraught
Lamp holders hold lamps of broken hearts
Now we hold the hands of prayer.
We are under the blanket of the holocaust.
Can prayers satisfy?
Must we all live?
This city houses a million breeds.
Let’s suffer this offer together
Pain is not unfamiliar to lumpen.
This is a hunt for the hunter and his hunt
We are just a lonely crowd
Until the birds tweet, cheep and flutter
And we find the land of water
This is where we are. This is where we’ll be.
Is heaven a better hell?