The Gates

On rock-hard ground the children lay, no pillow for their head,
And rivers flow into a sea of blood spilled from the dead.
So who are we to justify the choices that we make?
To say how life is so unfair, yet quickly bonds we break.
While children need, we live in greed; A life-style choice unfair.
And children die not knowing why; 'Cause food just isn't there.
While in the East they kill for Gods, all different, yet the same;
On shifting sands, with blood-stained hands, while we just shift the blame.
The young die young, and in their prime, while old are left to weep,
And piled high, the dead still lie in rows, ten-thousand deep.
We break our bones, we break our bonds, we break our vows of love,
Yet they know pain that can't be named, and we know nothing of.
So we may think we know it all, their back-ward cultures none;
But at the throne of God we'll meet when all is said and done.
And we'll stay rich, and they'll stay poor, and though they hold a grudge,
When we kneel outside the gates then only God shall judge.