PUCL Belletin, June 1981
by Bobby Sands
It is said we
live in modern times
In the civilized year of seventy-nine
But when I look around, all I see
Is modern torture, pain and hypocrisy.
In modern times
little children die
They starve to death, but who dares ask why?
And little girls without attire
Run screaming, napalmed through the night air.
And while fat
dictators sit upon their thrones
Young children bury their parents' bones
And secret police in the dead of night
Electrocute the naked woman out of sight.
In the gutter
lies black man, dead
And where the oil flows blackest, the street runs red.
And there was he who was born and came to be
But lived and died without liberty.
As the bureaucrats,
speculators and presidents alike
Pin on their dirty, stinking, happy smiles tonight
The lonely prisoner will cry out from within his tomb
And tomorrow's wretch will leave its mother's womb.
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