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shooting stars - witheren lyrics

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“i, being poor, have only my dreams; i have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.” (w. b. yeats)

shooting stars are dying asteroids
and so many of us burned
to form this display
i hope it looks great
but i can’t help but wonder
is this really what it was all for?

does a fine c*cktail really taste
good as plain rice stolen posthaste
from a thousand starving mouths, perhaps?
does a three*hundred times pay gap
reflect an hour three hundred times
harder worked? is this share revenue
worth its share in square
miles of barren earth?

woah…
woah…
oh i can’t help but ask…
are the presents gathered
from slavery past
and torture future
savoury while they last?

i can’t help…
i can’t help…
i can’t help but ask:
is the present gathered
from slavery past
and torture future
savoury while it lasts?

- witheren lyrics

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