We made them Masochists

Ti's so hard to call the winds
Even more to calm the seas
Our sense of idleness wins
If you're contented of peace

Yes, but not all peace are just
There is peace whose sound is death
Peace on those who work on rusts
Starving peace whose short of breath

For his well has long been dry
Is a child who knocks the door
Give his life or leave him by
Will you open up and pour?

Turned down our voices so dire
Oh peace! what have we become?
Of the poorest third world choir
We are the most feeble hum

Heedless until you're headless
The promise will never come
As the needy and food less
On their penury's succumb

Others sleep on rusty chains
Deprived rights, the justice keep
And it magnifies their pains
You enjoy your soundest sleep

Evils on offices hide
Elitists do more than crimes
Courtrooms, their decisions fried
Are you not aware this times?

Go outside and see by far
From you, a pyramid built
Being deaf is what you are
Where's your conscience, where's your guilt?