The Dream Game

This world's a much too beautiful place For anyone to play this game. To allow someone to spread the smear; focus hate and encourage fear Enough to let the Soldiers out when the target is about. And why? It could be Stasi views where there's no care which race they use. Could be the target is alone. Whatever it is we just don't know. Away from Soldiers who are blind to people of another kind Who work above and work between To play a game that's always been. By this stage, the target's gone For they know where they mustn't belong. If they're not they know the game; That Soldiers have lit up their name. They should have moved where they're not known Where no one cares that they have gone. Then someone would hear their stress And end it in their lonliness. With given maddness there's no choice No one believes or hears their voice and always been All of this is fantasy It's not real and will never be. No one is forced to move and so forfeit the life they love. No smear or fear or heightened hate Or feeling it might be too late. To feel the rain or smell the flowers, For they can't know their final hours. No Soldiers mark a target's way There is no silent, sinister game. No shadows underpin a scheme That's tried and tested and always been. No need to mistrust any friend Because someobody might hurt them. No extra cat food on its plate To cover any 'just in case.' Thank God this world's a lovely place And no one ever plays this game.