Strange times
Times when men walk backwards
With their feet up
Times when men mourn at festivals
And rejoice at funerals
Times when men are wives
And women are husbands

Strange times
Times when the lion crows
And the goat roars
Times when birds demand their share of grain
And the children starve
Times when animals lead
And men follow

Strange times
Times when the sun goes round the moon
Times when stones shower for rain
Times when men long for dawn at dusk
And are impatient for dusk at dawn
Times when just nothing goes right
Everything is meaningless

Everyone is asking questions
But answers are nowhere
Men seek answers in planets far away
They seek answers in oilfields and wells
Digging into the depths of oceans as they go
Breaking into figures and signs unknown
Going further away from the answers
Oblivious of a pair of eyes watching

Men have hardened their hearts
They have stuffed their ears with wool
And have sealed their eyelids tight
That they will not see, hear and understand
His wonderful works
A wicked generation indeed
Mourning her own fate
But there’s a remnant, a stump of the tree
Gathered from men all over the earth
For their sake the generation is spared
There is hope after all.