Colin F. Jones

THE WAY IT IS

The President will suffer the ghosts of the dead,
While his Generals reap the fame and the glory,
While the ordinary soldier lives in his own head,
And the media make millions from the story.
Our temples are not the sanctuaries confessed,
There is no safe haven from nature’s malevolence
Though we march proudly with medals on our chest,
We are at the mercy of everything of relevance.
Oh we will pray and we’ll hope and we’ll suffer,
Believing the Earth was made for humans to rule,
This delicate egg with its wounds leaking lava,
Where creation and evolution must duel.
So while we wait for the final explosion,
Let us leave the bullshit in the stall of the fool.