There's blood on our hands
We choose to overlook
We're destroying the lands
Can't find these answers in a book

We strive to organize
Yet when it comes to our futures
We choose to antagonize
Just put in crooked sutures

But maybe if we tried
Put away our lance
Pushed our differences aside
We might have a chance

Thought of someone but ourselves
And straightened our stitches
Checked again our goodness shelves
Solved everything by inches

Whether we think more or less
Realize we're only human
We all made a mess
It's just the mark of the man

Until then we'll resume
Living in primitive ways
Poisoning what we consume
And wasting our days

Meanwhile our time
Seeps through like sand
On our wounds we put lime
Self-destruct on command.