I'm picking up my pen today
when the noise under your windows
taking over your boulevards
who can't count her tears anymore
every night when she looks at
the hospital that's dying
hanging from teachers' arms
climbing on the step stool
If I dare these few lines
it's 'cause we're walking crooked
taking turns throwing in the towel
And the laughter in heaps
Our lovely house is burning
for schemes and calculations
it's time we heal
to the cradle of Enlightenment
of millions of decent folks
and frankly, neither do I
my heart's set on fighting