We All Are Poem by Francis Duggan

We all are quite strange in our own way and is there one stranger than I
And the perfect person is not out there deception is born of a lie
And to lie to some comes quite easy and one lie to another lie lead
And some are quite open to corruption the offspring of money is greed.

We must keep our doors locked at all times to keep others from breaking in
To even harm others for money by some is not seen as a sin
Yet none of us 'twould seem is perfect and I'm not to be anyone's judge
But if someone does the wrong thing by you life's too short for harbouring a grudge.

We all are quite strange in our own way a perfect one I've never met
That type of person is unheard of or at least has not been born yet
We all have our faults and our failings perfection we cannot achieve
When we think we are better than others our own selves we only deceive.

Big brother he always is watching and always trying to drag us down
There are many steep hills and pitfalls on the hard road that leads to renown
The poor peasant and the tall poppy to the scythe of the reaper must fall
Our prime years of life go so quickly and death is the end of us all.