A Swan’s Gannet…

Back then in a year called seventy four,
we just about knocked on heavens door.
Because heaven isn’t that bloody far away,
and it sure isn’t what the christians say.
No heaven is right here on this earth,
it’s a state of being it’s what you're worth.

See even a god can’t help but do what he’s told,
when the greedy threaten to remove the gold.
Governments with armies march in a christian light,
when they get told when and where to fight.
To be abreast that milk of increased profit
one has to suck from the same mother’s tit.

A peoples army with the youth unafraid,
tried hard to be heard not just get paid.
We took the streets but our flags were pale,
we couldn’t see to find that hidden grail.
We needed a leader of vigour and spine,
but the milk had turned the brave supine.

But here’s where the story gets sad or dark,
youths were angry, songs began to spark.
We really thought we’d lit the flame,
running hard against their lordly game.
But Judas has to many names and shapes,
and being youth we drank of their grapes.

The elixirs were taken then courage soared,
but an unknown voice didn’t speak it roared.
Desire turned from a want to a definitive need,
to fill the tank or void we stoked our greed.
The journey of want turned each other to hate,
then came the black year of seventy eight.

Communities in turmoil one against the other,
the fight then turned to sister and brother.
Youth committed it’s most dreadful sin,
started to look back at what might have been.
Our futures were scary the cost did rise,
we fought each other for the masters prize.

The story never ends it’s just goes on and on,
the rich have heaven upon this here planet.
Though we believe were a beautiful Swan,
when greed’s around were just a bloody Gannet.