How many hearts must be broken
How many words must go unspoken
How many men will walk on by
How many women will be left to cry
How many more children won't ever crack a smile
How many more metres till we walk to final mile
How come you stand so straight a tall
When your fellow man is forced to crawl
How come you never seem to see
All the suffering and the pain
How many more tears must fall from the sky
Until you stop calling it rain
Man oh man are you the man
If you watch them waste away
Only for you to make another million
And stash it all away
The young the old the helpless
They die because of you
Their blood is on your hands
I hope you see it too
I hope you meet you maker
And I hope you meet it soon
And on the day that you are buried
In the cold of June
The grave digger better dig your grave
Deep and dig it wide
Because it's not just your dead body
That will have to fit inside
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem