Like discarded shells of nuts, our time
Misspent counting pennies & pounds
Instead of the arts and lyrical rhyme
And laughter and love, and other such sounds
Such cruelty, a game of dice
Does God play with lives each day
As we run from maze to maze like mice
Shedding bits of our life along the way
Can our picture of God be broken?
Our ideals, ground to dust and sand
And our love be shallow, a token
Of ourselves, that we don’t understand?
Is selfishness a feeling now,
Or a god given inborn trait
Can a human being rise above,
And just be giving, forgiving, straight
Why is it so easy to hate?
Why must there be tears?
Why is it so easy to tempt fate,
Why is it so easy to give in to our fears