Anger Upon Warmth

It cricks, cracks the radio

I crank open the window

and stick my head out and

wonder what's out.

there's not much to do

when war's been brought out

while the people [the lemmings]

are running about.

I can watch them in hurry

I might shake my head too

but as you can tell there's not much I can do.

I see bombs up mid-air, and some crackers flare up,

much worse than the days of Mt. Mazama's erupt.

It burns flesh, it kills love, it brings anger 'pon warmth,

where flowers may sprout, our earth may go green,

but a cannon will burn it fresh upon scene.

They look like ants running in fire,

burning, bleeding, not much left to do,

but watch our sad world end with adieu.