How much we base our lives on feelings,
Trying to fill our houses to ceiling,
With stuff so cheap; monuments building.
Often we complain about the killings,
Still with much violence our minds we’re filling,
Teaching our children this kind of living,
in games where rage, not love is winning.
To our own designs praises we’re singing,
And turn our backs to those who are sinning,
Phones of our lives endlessly ringing,
We won’t pick up, conscience burying.
We say ‘round sex our culture is spinning,
With tons of lust our hearts overfilling,
Then we’re surprised when all that we’re seeing,
Is that our men don’t respect our women.
Peace in our soul for noise we are changing,
And all our money for gold we are spending,
Don’t wanna lend, endlessly taking,
Our wounded hearts with knifes we are mending.
When we should stand, our backs are bending,
When we should bow, we remain standing,
When we see pain, we keep ignoring,
But every game surely attending.
And so I wonder where are we going?
Are we sincere or are we lying?
Is this called life or are we dying?
On wings of love we could be flying.