The world is a cruel, mean place.
Poverty, sadness, loneliness, despair,
These traits follow us everywhere.
In every town, in every city, in every race,
There’s always something that’s out of place.
That makes our world cold,
Makes happiness mould.
Nobody can hide,
Try as they might.
I stare out of the window, watching the world go by,
Somewhere down the road, a child cries.
Walking through the town,
Suddenly I frown.
From where I stand I see
A homeless man looking up at me.
That was when I was struck by lightning,
The experience was all quite frightening.
But from that moment, I knew.
Happy times are far and few.
I shut the door and close it all out,
I couldn’t change it, there was no doubt.
But in my head a dream began to flow
Where it linger and multiply, fester and grow.
I dream a dream that one day,
We hear laughter as children play.
Bang! Was it a bomb?
No, we all know that bombings wrong.
There is no war no fighting, no helicopters.
That was the sound of a party popper
As we dance in the evening sun.
Every human united as one.
On the banquets table, the food is divine
And every person stands patiently in line.
We all get a share
As we know starvation is not fair.
On Sundays church bells ring
Some go, some stay, and the quire sings.
We respect those who goes to a different place
As there is no racism; we respect every race.
Builders work hard and get rid of all the slums.
There are proper houses for everyone.
17 June 2016