Of Africa
A few gray and dirty suns remain
Of America
A flag that loses its star wars
Of politics
Ideas that only shine through money
Music
A few DJ's for three billion people
It's not "A Farewell to Arms"
It's a disappearing world
Missiles don't have the charm
Of Hemingway's old rifle
Of the Great North
A few starving gold prospectors remain
Of ours body to body
Love wrapped in plastic
Conquistadors
Standing in front of their digital screens
Idiots who adore each other
I know better so many erotic women
It's not "A Farewell to Arms"
It's a world that is disappearing
The missiles don't have the charm
Of the old Hemingway's Gun
And "For Whom the Bell Tolls"
In This Anyway World
Each of Us Will End Up
Like Old Hemingway

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