" This season always makes me think of peace, Or dream of it at least, as I ignore The signs of it receding from the world: The headlines' promise of another war,
Or dream of it at least, as I ignore An unkempt man who begs for change, who keeps The headlines' promise of another war, The rich against the poor, it's me against
This unkempt man who begs for change, who keeps Reminding me of my humanity, the rich against the poor, it's me against The forces of injustice, all alone
Reminding me of my humanity, My coffee burns my tongue. It hurts to drink The forces of injustice. All alone In bed last night I dreamed this happy dream:
Because I'm nearly dead from thirst and then In bed - O last of nights! - I dreamed. This dream Was like my dream of peace, except peace wins My coffee burns my tongue, it hurts to drink Because there's one dead from thirst. And then The world was pure again, receiving gifts And giving them. I toss the man my change. This season always makes me question peace. "