THE OLD HOUSE

The house stood there .... in crying shame
The emblem for some of its owners
Who stood much to gain
For the selling of their heritage
That was handed down to them
That old house cannot understand
The wicked heart of man
It has risen aplenty in years you see
More than a hundred
I can attest to thee
It has been a shelter from the rain
And a refuge to those,who have suffered pain
Yet with one sweep of the pen .... we can give it all away

Then watch as the money slips through our hands
And leads us to temporary gain
From a heritage,that even if not perfect...was our right to claim
But for the love of money ..... our ancestors handiwork
Will all have been in vain
Have we no pride ... no history.. no recollection, of where we came from

That the very family members that we grew up with.....we now choose to shun
Is the social intergrity of our lives so twisted ....that only family member who have ..... get assisted
Is our greed so overshawdowed by our needs
That we fail to see our loved ones bleed
And what will happen in future?
When we think the most wicked person,is the one who must lead us

By pulling away the fragile part...... that binds you to me
You make your greed all the more clear....for everyone to see