Raining in April

Join the march to god knows where
Or step aside and stand and stare
Hum a melody to the four winds
As life draws maps upon your skin
Peacocks weep for dying plumes
The sun plots to kill the moon
Rage turns to despair
Goes the way of teeth and hair
Chessmen wring each others necks
Gamblers play with bloodstained decks
The turtle prone on its back
As the savagers attack
What kind of god, if us he made
Would choose us be predator or prey
Not a god of love but a god that’s wrong
And with that I end this song