Voices 

produced by Mr Mohammed & Mr Gee
Voices
A million stones does not a great pyramid make,
There's always blood, sweat and tears that keeps each block in its place,
And while Pharoahs will often speak of eternity,
They forget the Voices in the Valley that struggle to be free,
You see, the true power of the desert,
Isn’t commanded by Man,
For all your Gold & your Silver,
It Rests on tiny grains of sand,
That’s why your Empires rise and fall,
For they never heed the drum that calls,
They never watch the Babel towers,
Nor read the writings on the wall,
They never see that fate waits by the door,
Of Prince and Pauper, one and all,
It never rains on one man's house,
And no man can reign forevermore,
Yet we get impressed by skyscrapers & hieroglyphics,
Grandiose statements of a quickening spirit,
The mightiest stone will impress the critics,
As each every dictator fashions their face upon the Sphinxes,
For a million stones does not a great pyramid make,
There's always blood, sweat and tears that keeps each block in its place,
And while Modern-Day Pharoahs may dream of eternity.
They’d be wise to heed the Voices in the Valley,
As they struggle to be free.
Only the loudest voices make the History Books,
But with every passing generation,
Their volume gets overlooked.
You see, it gets mixed up in the cloud,
With echoes all around,
And soon we all start to forget,
Exactly who wore which crown,
Or who was kept in the dark,
For all journeys must embark,
With the expansion of the heart,
That resigns the future to the past,
As Oblivion laughs,
Chuckles & smiles beyond belief,
At the realisation in our eyes,
That our “Immortality” is brief,
So who are “we?”
We’re merely watchers of a scene?
We’re Stating for the record,
That records are merely droplets in the sea?
For Galaxies seek no acclaim,
And stars? Stars have no care for their own names,
And the planets will just keep on turning & turning & turning,
Until the end of their days,
That’s why only Love should be praised,
As it washes away the pain,
That we pass down year, after year,
That leaves an indelible stain,
For a million stones does not a great pyramid make,
There was always blood, sweat and tears that kept each block in its place,
And while future Pharoahs will speak of eternity,
They will always be accompanied by the voices in the valley...
....that struggle to be free.
© Mr Gee