The Windmills
Is there salvation for this generation?
*
Many are in pile of dirt... Others blessed,
carry the fate on her short journey. Undressed.
Fighting at Yesterdays Windmills, (and prays!),
chattered the gray, Today's, hastened days.
Lies to the left... Hate to the right...
The people suffers - day and night.
Hunger and Poorness. Nothing matters!!
Yawning on Top. Napping in ennui and bliss,
but the Anguish - enormous as sea is.
Raise your head, and you're blown.
Say your pain - nothing remains - you're alone!
All DEMO-crates are in the game.
"Fighting" the Evil. There's no shame!
Snobs, all over. No normal faces.
Hungry are you? But in Pubs ain't places.
Trying to screw you: pal and rival.
Changing his face, for every arrival.
Nothing Holy has stayed today!
Come on brother, hop in filth'n decay!
Shooting'n bomb blasts - justice is proved,
and the bullet says the Truth.
Everything's sold!!! The Sea, the Mountains.
Solace remains only for our teens:
Windmills to fight - as many you like.
Go! Struggle! (If you dare)... Strike!!
*
Isn't there, oh God, salvation for my generation..?
14/05/01
© Симеон Дончев Todos los derechos reservados