Who knows where time goes when
she’s gone
What love is when she dawns
Or death when he comes to get
what is his
Who knows why music sometimes
comes alive
How simple words cut throats like
knives
Why treacherous handshakes start
a war
Who knows how clouds look before
they’re born
Why your young hands look old
and worn
Why some men love small children
more than justice
Who knows why you never give me
enough room
What flowers think when they want
to bloom
why the opium of some kills a thousand
innocents
All those questions remain
unanswered
Yet, are they all asked in vain?
One simple question lingers:
If we knew it, would we change?
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