Under the blue-red sky
Under the umbrella of the blue-red sky
Some men laugh and some men cry
Some of them are in richness born
Some of them sleep on beds of thorn.
Between them exists a thin fine line
Though above all the same stars shine
Yet the two parts never the same
The grieving hearts never know whom to blame.
They question why it is never equal
The faces show that the pain is real
The physical wounds heal with time
But the tears welling up can never sublime.
The work all day till they fall asleep
This is the time when the dreams do creep
Crawling their way into the silent eyes
Keeping the soul alive as the body slowly dies.