THE GREAT SPORT

When they could send Bombs to any place

From the high Border of the Outer Space

And the Rest were fighting for Issues so Stale

Didn't see Night Skies becoming ever Pale!

Messengers Conquistador, from North and South!

With Fire in the ever widening Mouth

Must we surrender all our Possession?

Ought we retract the Words of Confession?

To stop your Fire from burning our Pride

Late comers to the Century, must we Die or Hide?

As if..,

We were no more Part Owners of Earth

We were Dead stocks in the Slots of Birth

The World was divided among the Victors

Miseries had glued us down to Various Creditors

We became a Lump of Curse of extreme Kind

To be swallowed in full by the whole Mankind

If you sent Smart Bombs to our Place

From the high Border of the Outer Space

It's not the Camels you had to Face

But the whole Children of the Human Race

Gordian Knot of the Ancient was here again!

Thousands strikes of the Smart Bombs were in vain

Because its center was in the Knot of the Brain

Which was not sensitive to the Feelings of other's Pain

As the screens had become diligent Grandmasters, to Train

Killing Adversary Images, as a Great Sport to Maintain