Love can be capital.

Rain drops on the eyes of lovers,
fires in cinemas
and propaganda pasted to the windows.
The forsworn oath to rise against,
to walk the opposite
and weigh each other up,
right down to the soul.
Sirens from unknown sources,
babies crying in religious wars;
that steal a mothers right to love their own.
In a trance I saw an end,
that shattered the sky as light drew in
from a hidden cloud
that drowned us all
in a final flood of impurity.
They've got me holding onto wires,
they've got me voting for a liar,
they've got my insecurities on file.
A shower of sun, to warm the seeds,
to start the thoughts that slur the speech,
the simplest of life's journey
is to wake anew and try to eat
when the birds tell me its morning.
No hock-shop here to pawn my love,
so I'll trade it for coin on the streets of dust,
from a balcony, she opened up
and watched my attempts of getting capital.
So I just close up shop, keep walking on,
with my forsale sign and my borrowed trust
and i have no hope, to help recover "us"
so i just keep re-writing this story.