Another song. Very much loud and upbeat and ‘get it up you’. My reasons are real and angry on behalf of people I know. Sick of hearing more bad news. Sanctions have to stop. There is no chorus. No repeat.
Child of sorrow, can you feel the hunger,
Can you hear the whistle on the wind,
Hitched to slavery, ghosts still passing,
Grab your ticket, let the ride begin.
Hollow metal scrapes their rails, tracks rattle,
Wagons pushed and pulled by your own steam,
Fuel the furnace with your sweat and troubles,
Don’t pull the brakes, they cannot bear the screams.
Fill that train to full and overflowing,
Pack them tight together, tight can’t fight,
I’m telling, make a space and take a deep breath,
Get ready now to try to steer this right.
She’s my sister, he’s my brother, see them,
Faces thrust from windows, searching air,
Gulps to catch and hold a little longer,
Surging past, a blur to platform’d stares.
Leaving every hour, each new minute,
Timetabled to the death or sanctuary,
Can you hear the whistle, ghosts are blowing,
One way ticket, round trip back to here.
Disembark and stand upon your platform,
You took the ride, a ticket trip to hell,
New customers are waiting, let the vendors
Hold on tight, they’re owed that trip as well.
Better hope the first lot had a good ride,
What, no sympathy for devils cast,
Alive or dead, they’re coming back to haunt you
Their final journey has to be your last.
Whistle growing closer, steam clouds churning,
Mixing with the cloud forms you can’t see,
Visions, signs in skies, you will not read them,
Better luck than some, I’m shouting ‘V!’