The dark cloak of winter's war, left a future still unsure, Sitting in a class, of the future's past, we saw a list of dates, and we knew we would last, to see them all.
1984 was a year to fear, hope was dead a police state here, Halley's comet was to fly by, and we would a shining in, the night sky. Now 2001 is soon to come, and just as soon will have come and gone, Nothing changes. Standing at the crosroads, of what is will be, and was the obvious eludes us, not because the zeros line up. We should change our way of thought, more if we do not, the way ahead is dangerously fraught, and if we did the things we all know to be right, left would be the childish fears, of danger in the night.
We, each of us are fine, for we have all heard the word, but grouped together, Babel's triumph stampedes, the thoughtless herd, Nothing changes.
Nothing changes and nothing stays the same, and life is still, a
simple game.
Graeme Edge (1999)
