Balcony of My Life

From the balcony of my life,
That birds fly away so, so slow,
The activity some distant strife,
When life happens far below.

And all men have a landlord—
Some devil in a cheap disguise,
Selling them wars with a sword,
Rinsed through the same old lies.

I wonder how much longer,
This machine can wander on;
When nothing makes you stronger,
And all the lies are long gone.

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