The Faroes

Standing on the cliffs
Looking down into the sea
A pod of pilot whales
Perfectione
And they be

Together their immaculateness
You can feel their solid joy
Wholesome healthy salutary
Inside of me that boy
Who felt the avid heartache
Of what some families do
Talking up tradition
Unparalled and true

Clambering down the rocks
Onto the beach and ready for
Those with their spinal cord cutters
Certified and sure
Mothers with their babies
Aunts and uncles too
Fathers teaching precious sons
Its what good families do

Their priceless world of freedom
Our need to culturally
Lead them down our slippery slope
To vulnerability
So many are indifferent
To the cries of agony
Eyes bleeding and unguarded
A dreadful symphony

Defenceless and naked
They have no where to go
Impulsive and impatient
Overburdened as we know
I stand observing feeling
Sick
My countrymen appear
Resourceful in their cunning
Their menustingari’s clamped and clear

Others with their grindakniver’s
Read for to slice
Cut babies from their mothers
Who would throw that dice?
And take away the spoils my friends
And toss them in some bin
Wriggling for a moment
The hostility of sin

The ugliness the darkness
Nature’s perfect scene
Ruined in an instant
By those so very mean
Perhaps some 50 bodies
Whose peace and harmony
Just became a maelstrom
of true depravity

Loaded down with cestodes
And nematodes and more
With mercury pumped everywhere
From coal fired smoke and war
Our oceans so polluted
Our livers and kidneys they
Are hardly able to operate
With The ominous decay

Its every where and still
You want to murder us and drive
Our families into hell and back
Till so few of us survive
Each massacre of angels
It cuts through spirit wide
Why my brothers continue this
There is no where left to hide

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