Swept
Swept up by the torrent
and flung between the gales
led on by the current
assisted by dashed sails
You hear men cry for mercy
and women swear good bye
the clergy hiss a heresy
and the children wait to die
Like rain drops on a pane
death is held at bay
but not forever can contain
for death will find a way
Thus this is why we pace
Twas from birth till we are gone
to search for a clue or trace
to the rhythm of our song
Perhaps there is a God
or are we all alone
and we shift to find the frauds
but no theory we condone.