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The wind in the willows,
The twinkle in the stars.
The white picket fence,
Or the red sports cars.

The perfect of perfects,
The best of the best.
The nice things we have,
Here in the west.

While others will suffer,
We will live on.
The parties at seven,
And work starts at dawn.

We think we’re good people,
As we try to donate.
To foreign starving children,
With death as their fate.

Some to the homeless,
Some to the sick.
Just a few donations,
Please make it quick.

We have started wars,
Killed to no measure.
Some for bits of land,
And some for our pleasure.

As our economy rises,
Our awareness may fall.
Just ask yourself,
Do we care at all?

When someone falls,
Lend him your hand.
I will finally ask,
Where, do you stand?

Winters Cold Death

It is getting quite late, for night is coming soon.
The suns been long down, and here is the moon.
The lids of my eyes,
Heavy.
Heavy.
Heavy.

I shan’t fall asleep, but the end is so near.
My family will need me, they love me sincere.
They will miss me,
Truly.
Truly.
Truly.

I wish to stay longer, I can’t take much more.
Thy advacation is to stay, but My God may ignore.
My God I still,
Love.
Love.
Love.

My attempts shall be strong, thy will stay awake.
For if I fall into slumber, thine life shall it take.
Coldness taking over,
Winter.
Winter.
Winter.

For I am too strong, lest I’ll never toil over.
With my own superstitions, and four leafed clover.
My prevailing God on high,
Mercy,
Mercy,
Mercy

Too much to live for, thou shall not die.
Winter cold sleep, please hear my cry.
For winters hand is,
Death.
Death.
Death.