Barely eight years old,

How was one to know,

The turmoil and the suffering

Felt by those in the great crowd?

 

Man stands in the road,

Blood upon his shoes,

The sky was heavy, falling grey

With bare lies and false truths.

 

The learn’ed spoke aloud,

The Masters cut them down.

Ideas of total power

Are the cancer in our towns.

 

A burning epitaph

Of history redone.

Forgetting yesterday will cut away

Tomorrows son.