A puddle on the ground is much like our world.
And greed is the oil that clouds the surface.
You can never drink the water, for it would make you sick.
The spirit of life is polluted,
Too much war and strife.
And the loss of our beauty digs in like a knife.
We turn our backs on the important things.
Our voices are gone, so we cannot sing.
Someone steals the things we love,
As we get caught in the middle of a game of push and shove.
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