A huff and a puff, it’s sure been a bloody long day
The day’s talk over, as they put their feet up
The dinners sizzle, their minds jumbled, as they shuffle across
A whine, a sigh, their heads cock up
A switch, a click, the screen’s turned on
The headlines flash, when a mother pleads
They’ve just killed her spouse
And they’ve captured her sons
She can’t hold back her tears,
But the journalists just gave her the hugs, the money?
Yet this is how she’s lived for the past decade
Well away from the world of missiles and flares,
Back in this cave of comfort and care,
The faces turn red, and play this petty blame game,
Until of course,
The phone rings
And she’s got the new pay
Hip Hip Hooray!
Arms in the air, as the five embrace
Not long after the drinks come in, they’re in the midst of a rave
The torture of this woman
Somehow shoved away
Next morning,
The Snoring stops
With the rings and the blares
A moan and a groan as they thrust themselves out of bed
The breakfast’s devoured in,
As they slam into their seats
They all tune in, as they figure out the next street
A beaten, old man, cries out in pain
His castle. No, his Basti.*
Has been battered away
By a quake so hard
It blew his life away
A little moan, a wish for change
Glancing for future hope
Ignoring the empty pots for donations
They could drop in today,
But then,
They missed the next exit, Hurry Up!
This time the radio gets the blame
But where did the wish go?
For this old man, worn away
But then their uncle breathed his last breath,
Tonnes of cigarettes, the doctors say
Caused his lungs to melt away
They wanted the whole world to wish him farewell
And indeed, hundreds more people attended his funeral
Than all the prayers for that old man and woman
Who were “worlds and worlds” away
*Basti – a slum inhabited by poor people
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