The Unborn (The anti-consumerism Ballad)

Inspired by:



The World is closing to an end.
Bells break the eardrums
When disguised priests pull the rope;
Children get unborn,
Unbaptised
And frightened in wombs.

Random masters rush us towards the final blast
And, cornered, we comply;
Connected to the self-destructive instinct
We can't but forge the pace of our gears;

Mechanical love, if any,
Is waged against the ancient dawns;
Like beasts, we bite with greed from each other,
Unfulfilled flesh leaving behind.

On the other side of the World,
Staring above, from apocalyptic waters,
Like a prince foreseeing through rubies,
You sing...

A piece of bread and a cold piano
Is all you need to magnify the surroundings;
But they didn't take the time to understand...
Like beaks, they came and crossed your chest
Leaving you wounded and weary...

The heavy seagulls landed on your shoulders
Ate it all,
Less your mind and your fingers keen to rise,
From pain and hope,
Endless rainbows on uncertain horizons...

- to Mr. Balázs Havasi
30.11.2011