There was no joy in Mudville.
The forests were ablaze.
We were staring at horizons.
That are blocked by smoke and haze.
The drummer kept on drumming.
Vain attempts to raise alarms.
To someone yelling in the distance.
With hands attached to bats and arms.
When no one seems to listen.
Or worse, they just don’t care.
Smoke is rising in the city.
Little faith or love to share.

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