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The time will come.

When will the time come that there are no more parades,
No more celebrations, no more charades,
They'll swipe away the illusion so quick, no one will see it coming,
It seems no one will care, when the skies have fallen,
As they tunnel out the mountains to live beneath the ground,
What kind of life awaits them there?

Starving for light, crying only for echoes to drown them in sorrow, in solitude
Even when they no longer feel like crying,
Where do they turn, when do they run, will they be told?
Will they heed the warning of the sun as it glows red in the sky, as the moon dissappears, no one asks why, no one even notices that there's not a colour in the sky.
Out of bounds, lost out of reach, washed up upon some washed out beach
So far now from the rolling green valleys of our homeland.

poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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