Has it not been called vanity,
The very thing that takes our sanity?
Like bats in the light of day we sway,
Clamouring like drunks trying to find the way.
Covered in dust, sweat and tears,
Chasing dreams that turn into weirs,
And in the greedy frenzy reality veers,
Yet our vision scarcely clears!
The hunger for power and money reigns,
The lowly driven like horses in reins,
Innocent bloodshed’s a game of gains,
Brothers consumed in individual pains!
Has it not been called vanity?
Indeed an echo in the plains!