Burning bright,
These buildings tonight.
Way up high,
Flying in the sky.
These flames climb up the walls.
And the bodies start to fall.
Giving up all hope of living.
When all they were was giving up,
Back to the people.
Crying out now from the steeple,
Nothing can compare to the sound
Coming from this crowd.
These people die today,
Will they all find their way,
Up to heaven or Hell?
Will they just say they fell
From grace for just a second,
And want the peace in a realm all pleasant?
“We’re on a mission from god?
My name’s Steve, he’s Tod,
Why can’t we get in,
We have no money, is that a sin?”
Even in a perfect place,
Money controls an entire race.
These problems must be faced,
To set back right this pace,
Of living in a dream,
And go back to being not as it seems.
But nothing will be the same,
This life is a shame,
People only live for the fame.
The Church wants your money?
The Government wants your money?
Are they really different,
Or is this not even coherent?
They seem to be the same to me.
This is how this all should be?
Everyone knowing nothing,
But me knowing only one thing.
This isn’t perfection,
It’s just your reflection,
And nothing in it can ever be made clear.
If nothing was said,
Would you have anything to fear?

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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