PRIME MINISTER

Do you sleep at night, Prime Minister?
Do you think of the girls and boys
You sent to die,
Who don't know why,
And neither do you?

Do you wonder at what you do,
As you cling to power,
And pretend you're the hero of the hour?
Do you believe the fine words you've spoken?

Why can't you feel the pain
Of the shattered bodies and limbs
Of those who'll never walk again?
Do you think of those whose minds you've broken
By the horrors to which you've sent them,
The blood, the screams, the ruined young lives?

And do you think of their mothers and fathers
And brothers and sisters and friends?
Do you think of any of them,
When you're sanctimoniously singing hymns,
And boasting?


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