Utopia

Where shall I find my utopia,
In an island created from piles of dead?
Or city built by massacring
Poor and oppressed by blade...

What shall be I served there,
Deliquescing cuisines, exquisite meals?
From foods snatched from starved,
And mercilessly looted from mills...

Oh what shall I be drinking,
The elixir of immortality?
Extracted from blood of people
Those dying from ours brutality...

How will I be entertained,
From circus performed by artist?
Those separated from their loved ones
And left at mercy of human disguised beast...

If so I don't want such utopia
For I am satisfied in my own bed,
No receiving curse, No worrying
For utopia created from plies of dead
For utopia created from plies of dead
For utopia created from plies of dead