Slowly turning pain to gain,
Slowly turning shame to fame.
Someday all will turn to dust,
All will come to be the desert of the lust.
All will come to be the desert of the past!
What’s of tomorrow’s forecast?
Some places in this dying world
I can’t believe still live.
Who can explain,
Why have we gone insane?
We all have plight for which we fight.
Why don’t we give each other hand?
To help to live, to help to dream;
To make this final stand…
And when we run this race
We do not see each other’s face.
We need to try – to see the azure sky.
We only have today – tomorrow it may be too late;
We only have today – tomorrow it will be too late!
Among these pleasures and seduction
We slowly face our desperate destruction.
Before eternal rise of night
I wish to see the glory of the light.
We all have plight for which we fight!
Plight!
© Copyright: Дмитрий Жуков 6, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116032208433
Свидетельство о публикации №116032208433
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