raining bling

 you think the time's a ghost of what has been

these clumsy children heading into strife

our parents knew that call of drum and fife

but could not tell the world they sought to win

how much was lost not now beneath the din

of horn and trumpet in clamour that's rife

with heavy anger at the joke of life

can we yet say that hope is turned a sin

the price we paid for wisdom in hard rain

and toil under the sun you will forget

since each alone must walk the final mile

as each conspires to hide the honest pain

persuade the child that parasite's a pet

and go to darkness bearing a bright smile