All the world's not a stage
But an asylum made of rage
Shots fired and death hired
Such a time of heresy mired
People come and people go
This life's truth sways to and fro
Expunging fear of hearsay
From lips talking about mayday
I crave restlessly for the might
Callously bound with no light
Stricken with a topsy world
I heave to bear the cross of wound
Belittled and besmirched, I bow
To deeds of a hell so stark now
Each moment hits me point blank
I move away, on whom can I bank?
Gracias,
Banker
