Pieces of clay endowed with life,
That’s what somebody used to say
About what people really are
Behind their usual display.

There’s such a fine line in between
The magic part with special glow,
And what we hide somewhere within
A part that no one cares to throw.

Are children begging in the subway,
Our big accomplishment in life?
For all we do is look away,
And wear the merciful disguise.

We brag about our helping hand
So that we can feel good inside
But I can’t seem to understand
In what on Earth we’re taking pride?

In homeless people cast away?
In banished souls which cannot speak?
Or maybe in this new belief,
Considered dead for being sick.

And yet we claim that we have found,
The holy goal of our existence
No reason here to be so proud
For we still cannot make the difference,

Between two words so often said,
Discrimination and protection
We think our judgment is well-bred
Our moral sense needs a correction.

And what about the crimes committed?
All in the name of God and justice?
For these mistakes have been repeated
So we have now a lot of practice.

Don’t know in what we’re taking pride
When all that’s bad is done by us,
Don’t know how we can feel alive
When we can’t compensate this loss…

We lost our dear humanity,
Our magic part just slipped away
The cripple, wry society
Of these decaying bits of clay.