My son......a mother's tale!
I sat on my chair and wondered what bothered me so much.
To view the past, I would have to reach out and with minds eye to touch.
A little life comes on this earth, to live and love, we view his laugh, hear his cry.
He walks through the years, makes his mark and then he dies, why?
My mother asked this knowledge from a man of the cloth.
"The son I bore, the son I love, why to war must he go forth?
For a time he lay so warm, so safe inside my womb,
the powers to be, care not if he should sleep in death's cold tomb.
I hold in my arms the pride of my young life
yet the powers to be, wish him to eat at the table of earth's endless strife.
I watched him grow from a seed so deep inside my soul,
that first cry, those that left, those which took their selfish toll.
So tell me man of the cloth, servant of god, if you can,
why must they take my boy who has now become a healthy young man?"
"Let me say good woman, to me this all does make good sense,
but I am a man who is one to all, I straddle religions self righteous fence.
I must answer to the powers that are, the powers that be,
how can I listen and obey a god which I am not able to see?
The powers that be, see to my needs, that is all in life of which I care.
The love that I have for another is hard for me to share!
So if the life of your son is what they do need,
I will go along with all of the things that they have decreed!"
So fat men sit and make plans of war,
the man of the cloth has become the available whore.
The sons of many, their blood will be shed,
the ground of brown earth and white sand will forever run red.
Mothers will cry, fathers will moan, the stars they will weep.
The life of sons and daughters in the cold ground it will keep.
Is it for freedom, for brother, for mother, father or another soul?
The loss of life will exert much from the earths endless roll!
War will take more than what we expect there to be.
In the end, fat man who sleeps with his whore, will certainly see!
To the one they have rejected, he who sees all,
to those who laughed in his face, he will make that fearful call!
They will have to answer for all the life that has be shed.
To those under their care who now have the mark of the dead.
There were those that died for nothing, life lost from the gun,
but the life that mattered most to me, was the life of........."my son!"
I sat on my chair and wondered what bothered me so much.
To view the past, I would have to reach out and with minds eye to touch.
A little life comes on this earth, to live and love, we view his laugh, hear his cry.
He walks through the years, makes his mark and then he dies, why?
My mother asked this knowledge from a man of the cloth.
"The son I bore, the son I love, why to war must he go forth?
For a time he lay so warm, so safe inside my womb,
the powers to be, care not if he should sleep in death's cold tomb.
I hold in my arms the pride of my young life
yet the powers to be, wish him to eat at the table of earth's endless strife.
I watched him grow from a seed so deep inside my soul,
that first cry, those that left, those which took their selfish toll.
So tell me man of the cloth, servant of god, if you can,
why must they take my boy who has now become a healthy young man?"
"Let me say good woman, to me this all does make good sense,
but I am a man who is one to all, I straddle religions self righteous fence.
I must answer to the powers that are, the powers that be,
how can I listen and obey a god which I am not able to see?
The powers that be, see to my needs, that is all in life of which I care.
The love that I have for another is hard for me to share!
So if the life of your son is what they do need,
I will go along with all of the things that they have decreed!"
So fat men sit and make plans of war,
the man of the cloth has become the available whore.
The sons of many, their blood will be shed,
the ground of brown earth and white sand will forever run red.
Mothers will cry, fathers will moan, the stars they will weep.
The life of sons and daughters in the cold ground it will keep.
Is it for freedom, for brother, for mother, father or another soul?
The loss of life will exert much from the earths endless roll!
War will take more than what we expect there to be.
In the end, fat man who sleeps with his whore, will certainly see!
To the one they have rejected, he who sees all,
to those who laughed in his face, he will make that fearful call!
They will have to answer for all the life that has be shed.
To those under their care who now have the mark of the dead.
There were those that died for nothing, life lost from the gun,
but the life that mattered most to me, was the life of........."my son!"
