Keep the arrows in the quiver
And the bullets in the bag
I had danced to the booming of thundering guns
I had jumped to the melodies of tragedies
There is nothing good bout bursted brains
Bout broken bones and burnt barns
Keep the lions away from the seats of discretion
I had sat with powers around the negotiating table
Embraced the grammar of excited pessimists
Blinked with hope and happiness
At the promises in the wisdom of great orators
There is nothing true bout the lies told with conviction
Their selfishness is a curse
But where do we turn when humanity fails
When all the weapons in history are rendered impotent?
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