And Still I Wonder

There's a man up there
Standing on the ledge
With one step left to go
His eyes are closed
His fists clenched tight
In this, his final show.

There's a little girl
And she's standing still
At the end of the street
Her brother's shot
He's lying there
Dying at her feet.

Who's to say
Who has the answers
To the questions that we pose
We shouldn't judge
By the colour of their skin
Nor the cut of their clothes.

Would people still have listened
To Martin Luther King
If he were white
Would Kennedy
Have been President
If he were black as night.

Why do they have to die
When the meaning of life
Is so near.
Why do they have to cry
When the meaning of life
Is so clear

There are
Shapeless shadows
In the moonlight
With the skillful touch
Of the painters brush
He paints a starry night

All the artists
In the world
Are trying to right the wrongs
The painters paint
The poets write
And the singers sing their songs.

Death and destruction
We've got to find
An end
Utopia will only be found
When our souls
We mend.

The Little Boy
And the Visionary
Both apart of one
Always fighting for control
It's their actions
That show who's won.

Why do we have to cry
When the meaning of life
Is so clear
Why do we have to die
When the meaning of life
Is so near.

And still I wonder.