The future…
Many a one arm bandits has been played but
from rags to riches few have made the grade.
Stars fall and rivers rise as an ill wind now
blows.
Wounds that will never heal and young
minds lost to ignorance so surreal.
Off to war two by two…
You see… peace will never do.
Oh Were! Oh Where is Uncle Sam…
Off to Alice in Wonderland?
The gates are open …
and in waves they come,
the dike they will break
and we shall all pay for
those sour grapes.
Jobs galore…
the recession is no more.
If you believe that…
the man in the moon thinks
you are a total buffoon.
Where does it go from here?
Only the shadow knows,
but one might guess…
to hell in a hand basket…
no less!
You and I, we hang on…
thinking that the tables
will turn…
but Cesar fiddles
as Washington burns.
That ill wind continues to blow,
and nothing seems to grow and
at the tunnel end a train whistle
blows.
