Believing is Hard.

Every long day of our cruel, bitter and unlovely lives,
The bastard, the bitch, and the sinner survives.
He could be that random bloke with a gun,
Who shot up some local kids, just for fun,

Or it might be the girl who gives a self-sure sermon,
Before she goes out to give herpes to an unknowing virgin,
Or it could be that man who drinks instead of loves,
And ignores his wife and all the serving she does,

Maybe it's the kid who egged your car,
Or the boss whose shouting went too far,
Maybe it's your neighbor who lets her dog shit on your lawn,
Or that guy who you took home who left before dawn.

Those bastards, those bitches, those sinners survive.
And as much as the faith you had, you try to revive,
It gets harder each day to believe in the great, the good,
The hard working, honest folk, as you know that you should.

The bitter sad anger of humanity is surely clear,
We should go out each day, well dressed in our fear,
That some awful person will stab our backs,
And then walk away whistling to cover their tracks.

But then, as much as those people we might resent,
Would you or I, given the chance, do any different?

The only way to make the world sane,
Is to try, and try, and try again.
To believe in the wondrous things humans could be,
And right now, that greatness we should all try to see.

To say I'm not the best chap at the task, is fair,
But still, try seeing the good, even when it's not there.