Promise Mills

Over the hills and through the dells
Our precious little ones they dwell

In the thundering cold dark of night
They choose to do that which is right

There they are willing to risk their lives, their limbs
Where and when the duty is called upon them

Fueled by the belief that "They" would not lie
Our children let out their battle cries

All the while we are here at home, alone
Thinking are we, will they be coming home?

Hoping we were not fooled again
Hoping this time "They'll" let us win

But, why must we fear?
Why do we care?

Because the enemy is not seen
Cloaked in his obscure money green

Blood stained bills and promise mills
Black Waters distilled spills

Any one of them could be sacrificed
Unknowingly forfeiting their lives

At the whim of the "Others"
So guard closely our sons and our daughters

Our precious little ones
For they belong to everyone

And not to our "Promise Mills"


A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man