“What is WHY?”
The dead men cry
When seagulls overhead do fly
and women who are weeping “WHY?”
There is no answer
say I.
That word is not a question
But an accusation
Not a query nor a look
But a passage in the Book.
A passage in a book
We booked passage on a tramp
We laid bets upon the outcome
When the babies washed ashore
Money changed hands.
There is no answer
say I.
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