Love’s lost, throat’s parched, tears dried
Innocents mutilated for what?
For a piece of land?
To gain some pennies?
Remember those days of harmony
Few demands and little was plenty
When love held more value than metal
Those days were golden
Simple living and high thinking
The iron rusted on our tongues so easily
Today despite luxuries we cry
Greed’s the root cause of agony
Has the goldsmith turned to blacksmith?