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So we stand, we ask ourselves,
"Why is it wrong?"
We keep stabbing, and jabbing - reeling, and stealing,
And ask-
"Why is it wrong?"

The pain and the anguish,
Disease and dismay,
Where does it come from-
"Where it may?"

The heartache and suffering,
Oppression, indifference,
Choking us under
The weight of death's clutch.

So we stand, we ask ourselves,
"Why is it wrong?"
We keep shouting, and pouting - spying, and lying,
And ask-
"Why is it wrong?"

Cheaters, liars, thieves, murderers,
Each and every one of us deserves-

So we shake our fists, above and around,
Pointing in circles, endless, abound,
Horrified howls and shrieks of dismay,
Killing each other-
"Where it may?"

While, really, we have but ourselves left to blame.