Sunday Child

Which is worse – animosity or anonymity?
Tell me, wise one, know-it-all,
Is it better to die with a knife in your back,
Falling at another's feet in a pool of blood,
Or to die alone, unnoticed,
A silent scream in a howling wind?

Of course it's rhetorical.
A horrible question with a horrible answer
That we all know
But do not acknowledge.
Maybe I'll say it,
Just to see you question humanity.

And it's not a moment too soon
For the little girl who
Doesn't understand what Daddy
Does to her naked body
When Mommy's not there
To hear her scream…

I'll yell all the things you won't say
From a roof top in London
And maybe the civilians will stop
And understand why the teenager killed himself
With only a note written in blood
To say goodbye to those who almost cared.

There's a blanket of lies smothering
The bed of civilisation
And we know it's there…
So why do we burrow into the covers
And pretend that we don't notice
The beggar on the street?

Let's slip away from vagrants
And not-quite-innocent children
To look into a mirror with quality resolution.
But no, wait, your eyes are closed!
Is the truth too much
For your logical mind to deny?

We all judge each other
And there's no denying that.
The girl you just saw, the emo,
Hugging her emo boyfriend
Will go home and cry and wish
That her parents would stop fighting (but they won't).

The little boy you just passed on the street
Ran away from an orphanage
And has the scars to prove why.
His Momma's dead and Dad's in jail,
Sister got adopted last winter
And he's all alone in this harsh world.

I can scream at you all
And you'd scream back.
There's so much wrong
And I'm just so confused (help me!)
I'm running, I'm running, away
From truth, from lies, from ignorance.

Who can I believe,
When I can't believe in you?
The sky is falling
And all is lost.
The children, poor children,
Are dying too young
By the hand of the old.

Is it animosity or anonymity
That lets us ignore them?
Can't you hear them scream
In the dead of night?
Must we continue to sleep
In civilisation's bed of lies?
(No, but we do, we do…)