I glance into the future which comes from the past Or is it the past which comes from the future Will the vast expanse of the skies ever last Or illnesses find there cure Is life in slow motion or much too fast Are soldiers as brave as they dare Are shadows as ominous as the image they cast Are buses worth the cost of their fare Are virgins pure and chaste Is their truth in the sounds that we hear Is garbage the result of morbid waste Is their sound reasons for what we all fear Are our thoughts all bound up and grossly encased Do we know that the future is near Are our minds all getting slowly erased Are we losing those things we hold dear?