Vineyards and Battle Fields…
Winters past and spring has come, awaken and arise
A compost of manure is sown and spreading fertile lies.
The fields are plowed and ready, for broadcasting to the ground
It is the growing season, just take a look around
The furrows all neat and trimmed, are divided into lines
for branches strong and laden with fruit rustling on the vine.
Then soon comes the harvest, and the reaper comes to town
And lo, these fertile fields become a battle ground
And heads shall roll like grapes cut down in their prime.
With rhetoric and logic the press it is always so applied
Wake up children it’s not to late to turn this all around
Listen now and tell me, can you hear the sound?
Slowly squeezed with each twist and turn, blood pours out like wine
A holocaust of which the likes we’ve never seen, is beginning to unwind
With open eyes perhaps you’ll see, what is going down
It’s subtle schools of thought, planted in our ground
Carefully plotted strategies to keep us all in line
Do you see the wars begun to gain control, of the vineyards of our mind?