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Nothing left to say
Another old year passes, a new one has begun,
Bright clear morning follows pale setting sun.
I pause a quiet moment to savor the fleeting thought;
What the old year has taken, what the new one has brought.
The years fly so swiftly, time rushes past;
Memories may linger, but seldom truly last.
So many years behind me, far fewer still ahead:
The time soon approaches when I too shall be dead.
I long to leave this world of bitterness and hate,
Where innocents are slaughtered or abandoned to their fate.
Naively I once looked forward to bright new years,
Blind to the horrors, immune to the tears.
Now each annual revolution of this gory mudball
Brings us closer to the end, the day of our downfall.
You think it cannot happen, yet reader it draws nigh,
It might end with a bang, or just a simple sigh.
The future has been written, our fate long since decreed;
What comes cannot be altered, by action thought or deed.
The day of our accounting, regardless of creed or gender,
And crimson red will be the coin we are forced to render.
Mankind's basic inhumanity he will at last be forced to pay,
And for all his clever words, there will be nothing left to say.
Bright clear morning follows pale setting sun.
I pause a quiet moment to savor the fleeting thought;
What the old year has taken, what the new one has brought.
The years fly so swiftly, time rushes past;
Memories may linger, but seldom truly last.
So many years behind me, far fewer still ahead:
The time soon approaches when I too shall be dead.
I long to leave this world of bitterness and hate,
Where innocents are slaughtered or abandoned to their fate.
Naively I once looked forward to bright new years,
Blind to the horrors, immune to the tears.
Now each annual revolution of this gory mudball
Brings us closer to the end, the day of our downfall.
You think it cannot happen, yet reader it draws nigh,
It might end with a bang, or just a simple sigh.
The future has been written, our fate long since decreed;
What comes cannot be altered, by action thought or deed.
The day of our accounting, regardless of creed or gender,
And crimson red will be the coin we are forced to render.
Mankind's basic inhumanity he will at last be forced to pay,
And for all his clever words, there will be nothing left to say.
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Nothing left to say
Nothing left to say