The Song We Learnt to Sing

There's a song we learnt to sing,
Carved out from hopeful frustration.
In our head, the tunes roll and ring,
Like a gun blown into fire and motion.

There's a song we learnt to sing,
Depressing tunes of sober reflections,
That all will be fine and get better,
Even as life rots, throwing us in quagmire.

There's this song we learnt to sing,
Lyrical composition of lies drowned in belief,
That suffering will ed during the reign of a chosen king,
Who will lick our wounds and end our mischief.

There's this song we learnt to sing,
Even as cold dwell in our cities and our lands thrive in horror.
Prices of goods skyrocketing daily, planting sores on our pockets,
Fleshy children turning frail, thrown a spell from life's magic.

There's a song we learnt to sing,
Taught and performed by envisaging paradise,
When our plates are filled with cracked bones and a crippled wing,
Because we trust in estates of dust and ruined merchandise.