Stop. Go back to your make-believe,

For what is real is hard to bear.

In normal times we take a stroll

And look around and sniff the air,

But now imagination rules,

No entertainment lives out there.

 

Three heroes in their sailor suits

Dance to the tunes of ‘On the Town’,

While outside bombs and missiles land

And innocence comes crashing down.

 

The burned-out shells of tower blocks

Should be a warning to us all.

Though pleasure frolics in our head,

We are soon heading for a fall.