he hides in the shadows
the Kalashnikov waits for its victim
a small streets neighberness is broken
a gunshot rings out one more victim falls
DEATH
the IRA
the UVF
the UFF
their all the same TERRORISTS
more innocent blood is shed
some bastad will get it in the head
from Dublin to Belfast its just another death
in London a bomb goes off
childrens blood stain the the wet pavement
WHAT WILL FUTURE GENERATIONS THINK
those who live by the gun die by the gun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lots of energy in this piece, Loyd