Writings on the Wall
On them walls so that the mortals don’t piss and spit.
And there are walls as high as where the birds fly
Between them the rich and the poor
But their walls have faded, for in the wretched people
The riches they have not, and the affluent has it all
Though with high walls the crooks cannot climb,
The outlaws cannot hurl hand grenades.
In times of peace is the wall so low
So low the writing on it is not grimed by the height
Of foolishness me and my tribesmen have ascended
And these are the days of war
And these are the days of high walls
No matter if you are bloody broke or moneyed
For some sense of security in this jungle
Once again reminding us nothing matters at the end
But we are only sharing happiness and sadness in the wildness.