WHEN WE ARE BORED Copyright 1999.   IT IS WHEN WE ARE BORED AND PERHAPS ALL ALONE IT IS THEN WE SIGH AND BEGIN TO MOAN BUT WE SHOULD COUNT BLESSINGS YOU AND I AND HERE ARE SOME OF THE REASONS WHY   FIRST THERE IS THE ORPHANS IN WAR TORN LANDS WHO REACH OUT FOR FOOD WITH GRUBBY HANDS MOSQUITOES AND DIRT INFEST THEIR FACE MOTHERS AND FATHERS GONE WITHOUT TRACE   THEIR SWOLLEN BODIES TOO WEAK TO BEG SOME MISSING AN ARM A FOOT OR A LEG OH WHAT THEY WOULD GIVE FOR AN HOUR OR TWO JUST TO TRADE PLACES WITH ME OR YOU   AND WHAT OF THE MOTHER WITH CHILD AT HER BREAST HER MILK HAS DRIED UP, AND WE SAY WE ARE STRESSED SHE FIGHTS FOR HER LIFE FOR HER OFFSPRINGS SAKE HER BARE FEET BLISTER WITH EACH STEP SHE TAKES   AND THE LITTLE OLD LADY. HER LIFE ALMOST DONE WANDERING DAZED IN SEARCH OF HER SON THE SOLDIERS CAME, SHE WILL NOT SEE HIM AGAIN AND WE THINK THAT WE HAVE EXPERIENCED PAIN   TOMORROW WE WILL WAKE IN OUR WARM COZY BED WE WILL NOT GIVE IT A THOUGHT AS WE REACH FOR THE BREAD WE WILL GREET OUR NEIGHBOURS AS WE WALK DOWN THE STREET WELL, THERE ARE NO MINES HIDDEN UNDER OUR FEET   THEY LIVE FAR AWAY AND WE LIVE RIGHT HERE SO WE TURN A BLIND EYE AND WE LEND A DEAF EAR WE SWITCH ON TV, OUR FRIENDS HAVE ARRIVED THEN WE MOAN WE ARE BORED, AND WONDER HOW WE'VE SURVIVED   BURNT BY THE HEAT, THERE IS NO SHADE TO BE FOUND CATTLE AND CORPSES LAY SCATTERED AROUND DECEASE IS SPREADING AT AN ALMIGHTY RATE BUT WE HAVE OUR PROBLEMS, THE POSTMAN IS LATE   OUR HAIR IS A MESS, THE TV LICENCE IS DUE WE'VE GOT NOTHING TO WEAR AND ITS RAINING TOO HOW DARE THE WEATHER DEPRESS US AGAIN THEY ARE HAVING A DROUGHT, WE ARE KNEE DEEP IN RAIN   THOSE HUNGRY EYES STARE BACK FROM THE SCREEN THEIR LAND IS BARREN WITH NO SIGN OF GREEN OUR GRASS GROWS HIGH AND OUR TREES GROW TALL WHO WILL ANSWER WHEN THOSE LITTLE ONES CALL   SO YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WHEN I TRY TO SAY WE SHOULD COUNT OUR BLESSINGS EVERYDAY AND REMEMBER THOSE IN A FAR OFF LAND WHO'S LIVES ARE GOVERNED BY WARS EVIL HAND   Back