Is that your tortured body,
I saw on the screen,
It might well have been.
Were those your screaming eyes,
That looked into my soul,
And left a deep, dark hole.
Was that our home,
Was that our past,
Scorched by the terrorist blast.
Tell me no more my child,
For I must close my mind,
And make my eyes go blind.
I’ll keep out the hurt,
That hasn’t hurt me yet,
I won’t watch it on my TV set.
It hasn’t happened yet,
But I know in time it must,
Time reduces everyone to dust.
That final searing blast,
That takes us from this earth,
Is sealed within us all at birth.
Before The Day After by Steve Roberts, 1984 |