A river of blood, a sea waste deep.
With waves you could drown in with one step.
Too many good souls death.
Too many thrown away with one breath.
All actions now to undertake, all much to late.
Now they are faces placed in the past, trapped.
They are all useless deaths.
Given by misleads and white lies.
But don’t set your self to rest.
I for one will not march on towards
the great grey gates of an anonymous
grave a million miles away.
Places with no names, no reason,
no blame just time pointed at one place.
A place where voices are put to rest.
So the world could sleep blind and deaf.
Shifting blame no responsibility in their chest.
In my life, in my death I want purpose.
I want to walk on my pad.
Not a dusted off road
with a clear beginning and end, straitened,
no curves, no bends no time to play.
Not on my pad made of my choice made of my stone’s.
I will not listen and go def by the words
and the voices that shout beyond death.
Those face trapped in the past
shrouded in the dark.
Those faces will never meet the light again.
We got to recognise the legacies they left.
Learn and look beyond the past.
So we can go on with no regrets
and put those loads of our back.
And make the world more beautiful
then ever before making this place
in what it’s meant fore.