We Shouldn’t Complain

When it pours out and there’s no where to go

Enjoying places like a Crop Over show

Sometimes it rains and starts to flood

Have you thought of others in streets of blood

Out in the East where the sun is hot

Under rains of bullets the people can not

Leave their homes and things get worst

Don’t get flood but the bombs that burst

No opportunity to nestle up in bed

They huddle with fears and pain of the dead

Cadavers around them and on the streets out

Ordinary people like me, like you who can never shout

Make no grimaces at friends who died

Place little hopes on a future or dreams that lied

Like rain, the bullets and bombs pour

And today’s shelter will tomorrow be no more

I think we should no longer quarrel about the rain

Now, how ever hard it pours, We Shouldn’t Complain