Callous closed heart
Living a life of ease
Never any real problems
Large lawn, tall trees
Nothing to make him think
Placid life so smooth
Nothing to bump the needle
And knock it out of the groove.
Reading paper in the morning
Watching news at night
Nothing gets into his private life
Nothing dims his light.
World pain bounces off of him
Like water off a duck
While tiny little social problems
Run through him like a truck
Don't bother him with famine,
Revolutions or Apartheid,
If you ask him to care
He says he's already tried.
Nothing goes on inside his head
Nothing upstairs
And if he can't feel anything
Nothing he can share.

Feb 1989