All the people I see are blind to the reality
All the good in the world, they still can't see
All the evil that's not they still fear shadows
All the fuss about what's not and narrow ends
They have got plenty of words to describe evil
They have got no spine to stand up like real men
They have got plenty of time to make complain
They have got no balls to die for what they belief
There is no perfect cure to our headaches
There is no headache without a cure if we try
There is no evil without source from around us
There is no humanity without a trait of evil
We are all the hands we need in this world
We are the shadows with steep sides, waging wars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem