The winds of change have come again,
To rain on us with gold.
They dine and feast on the lungs of all;
The young men and the old.
Messengers of days gone by;
They pass us all along.
Drink your milk and eat your veg,
To grow up big and strong.
Why is this world a wasted mess?
I cannot seem to move.
We keep on spinning all the while,
To a less than equal groove.
Why aren’t we making progress yet?
What have, by chance, I missed?
We keep on moving, on the wind,
With nothing but our sweet bliss.