#73 see the pestilence outside my window

I see the dung heaps piled at least a mile high

I see the shards of shattered dreams in the street

I face the morning with my customary sigh



I hear the sounds of children laughing aloud

A stumbling wind has attracted quite a crowd

My breakfast finished now I brave the outside

But clouds have hidden all the warmth inside



Chase these clouds away

I hate this sunless saturday
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Freedom come

For us now

Light our sky

Burn away these clouds



Perhaps the charcoal grey and brown around me

Is just the mirror image of tainted soul

I think the sun will never visit my sky

Until the truth is seen by each and every eye



I see the helpless and I see the insane

I see a pauper singing in the pouring rain

I see the means of help elude us again

I think the sun will never visit me again

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