This cynical town will never die
Something lost can’t be saved
Doesn’t matter the tears you cry
Can’t stop this way that’s been paved
I find it strange nothing new
Never knew it was a danger
Under a sky so blue
Never feared that stranger
What’s the point if it’s lost?
Something we want to hide
Who cares at what cost
As long as by the laws we abide
Don’t tell me to leave it be
Its wrong never been so right
Why, why won’t you see!
Where is that kind light?
Listen to their cries
So desperate needing a hero
Blinded by their simple lies
All their lives adding up to zero
But no this cynical town will never die
Something lost can’t be saved
Doesn’t matter the tears you cry
Can’t stop this way that’s been paved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some find things before they are lost Regardless of the owner's cost Having gained what others have paid for The value is not worth a penny more. For as quickly and quietly as they have it possessed Something more is their every quest Makes no difference if it is given or stolen The value is only a moment's token. And yet, under the sky so blue Those who labor will earn their due While others will like the grasshopper of yore Find an ever depleting store.