Don’t you just hate it when you can’t find your solitude?
When drastic measures are needed to be raised;
When you find yourself trapped in some perfunctory ritual;
Or running for shelter in a purple haze.
My Lord, where are those times of childhood freedom?
My G-od, where are those happy days?
When everyone knew what was important to the other person
And did not care because they knew everyone plays.
Now the play-ers are separated from the pray-ers
And the left is not part of the right;
And the colors are not satisfied being wonderfully radiant
Because they simply are not black or white.
Yes, we only find ourselves alone now
In the heat of the battle
As we raise our backs and
As we bicker and fight.