Another Lament

The men have come from the factory town
and cut the trees in the forest down
to make tax-forms of their long-grained wood
and the boys and girls are supposed to be good.

The men are here with their guns and vans
and they fence the seas and they wall the lands
marking the joys of their big brotherhood
and the boys and girls are supposed to be good.

The men, the men with their toys and pain
and their fear of life and their lust for gain
smear over the world with must and should
and the boys and girls are supposed to be good.

The whole of the air is inflated with speech
and the tales and the songs are the same for each
and there's poison down in the underwood
but the boys and girls are supposed to be good.

The smoke goes up and the wind blows through.
The brown hangs long in the white-streaked blue
and living is ground into livelihood
but the boys and girls are supposed to be good.

Things that are taken are no longer free.
Every thing other is never like me.
If the world isn't words then it's misunderstood
and the boys and girls had better be good.