You hear your mother's voice,

You hear your father's voice,

From beneath the rubble

Of the savaged building.

Happily credulous,

You dig with your bare hands

And cry out loud for help.

But none comes, nothing moves.

Real life, in guise of death,

Has stripped away the scales.

With its offending heart,

The cruel ventriloquist,

Yapping at your conscience,

Is put back in its box.