Rolling hills and daffodils
and Kings sit in high places.
Fools and jester's not alike
put tears upon their faces.

Drug pin queens
and all the races
share meaningless dreams
and live in such dark places.

All for naught
they spend up their dimes.
With foolish thought,
a tragic waste of time.

How could they be so blind?
A child cries...
For Daddy to come home.
Their Mother weeps,
for the loss
of a crumbeling Rome.

There is no rhyme or reason
to this deadly game.
Change is in due season,
there is no honor in this shame.

Feasts abound for the mighty crown
of Kings sitting in high places.
On the ground they're looking down
with frowns upon their faces!

You line Your pocket
or run and hide;
but Your sin,
You can not disguise.

For a child cries for tender Love
and Prays for their parents.
God can see and is linning up the Kings,
to see Your faces.

Soldiers march though You see them not
and fit in such small spaces,
to answer Prayers of little ones
whom bare their parents disgraces.

You laugh and smile and all the while
A Child Cries.
Children weep, with nothing to eat;
How could You be so selfish?