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The Place is this,
the time is soon,
Our noses point at yesterday.
We’ve all become our own buffoons
Our backsides to the future.
The sky is grey
Or maybe blue
Who cares when there’s a better day
to come
we know it will;
we know it must,
Some
Day.
Nobody knows where god has gone
He’s left a memorandum
It says just sort it out yourselves
It’s really no Conundrum
PS: I’ve seen your show before
It’s ceased to entertain
I’m making a fresh start and
So should you
Some
Day.
There was what some would call
A spot of trouble, here
Or two.
And everything
We once possessed, invented,
built or knew,
Incinerated, burnt to ash
In one or two explosions
These days we deal with sticks and stones
And acid-rain erosions
All we have left is sticks and stones
And acid-rain erosions
some Day
One Day
We’ll make a home,
so what
if we don’t
we probably won’t
but then again we may
Some
Day
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Sticks and Stones - Excerpt