Streaming clouds, ad impressions, obsessions
Television waving banners
In the face of ancient hatred
Excavated restated to fire desire
Inspire madness in the muscle
Nothing new said the prophet every reason has a season
To everything
There is a season
To everything
There is a season
And a time.
Your eyes are the stock in trade
You’re made by trends, your friends
Your gut desire, you wire
Bitter children with hate, they wait
To make their killing
Willing madness in the muscle
Bitter fingers on the triggers
To everything
There is a season
To everything
There is a season
And a time
Nothing new said the prophet every reason has a season
Turn again.
Copyright 2014 by Howard Owen
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