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CRIES
CRIES.
I hear their cries on the wind,
loud cries of desperation.
"No food, no food," they cry in vain;
there is no food for their nation.
Their cries are mute, no sound,
all hope gone from their eyes.
The rich eat caviar, drink champagne
as another small baby dies.
When will they learn how to share?
Borders make all the difference.
This side or that means food or none,
poor nations have no influence.
Plenty of money for bombs,
plenty for making grenades,
no money at all to share the food
so another life dims and fades.
Do you htink God doesn't see
when there's enough food for all?
Greed and selfish interest now reign,
they are deaf to the desperate call.
