what's here doesn't answer

if when we ask for sense we get a stone
and told that this is the best form of bread
we can't expect the criminal to atone
unless his heart is filled with fear and dread
but that's not a thing for us here alone
who have been sheltered watered fed
enough that there's been a grave crime
but not enough to punish him with rhyme

on one side sea and on the other land
the beach is long and lined with cheap hotels
we dodge the gulls and the terns stand
their feet firmly placed on small clam shells
there's so much here we need to understand
while from above the fool inanely yells
we've learned that someone tells the story
in order to make sure they get the glory

we're far from sea here up two thousand feet
the trees outside are turning a pale green
i strain to hear the noises from the street
my thoughts are all about what's gone and been
the hour has not yet come when we must meet
i've learned to count the things that i have seen
movements in dust and debris here abound
i listen for the perfection of new sound

where there's a will there's usually much gold
each of us does our duty for a plain fee
we've seen the ones who don't duly get rolled
hope is not something you pluck off a tree
we have to do the things that we are told
but in our hearts we won't really agree
our course though is mapped out and worse
we can't summon the energy to curse

name the new obligation and we'll run
as fast as feet will carry us we'll be well hid
there's not a need to wonder if all's in fun
we've managed to keep our pictures off the grid
our activities will the most jaded come to stun
but we'll not be found guilty god forbid
the messages we've got will have to keep
till we've been able to obtain true sleep