Midnight's Children (H.B.M.)

One quick disease to cushion the flies
How come no one smells the breeze?
Orange, come through our green, white, and blue
The wheel’s still left out of these
Pray my friends:
Tell the gods all our worries
Candles and cigarettes
We each keep behind
A story now folklore, all read by the blind
So we pray!
Darkness descends, while brightness prevails
Crescent moons trim wrong beliefs
Decades of beige and khaki parades
But blood determines their age
Pray dear friends
The gods shall bless you in the end!
Confectionery treats and colors for each
But once the blow horn sounds, how they dye the streets!
So pretend!
While we pray
We pretend
We belong to the earth of our gods
We were born from the earth of our gods
We belong to the earth of our gods
We were born from the earth of our gods
We belong to the earth of our gods
Plead for us!
We were born from the earth of our gods
Pray for us!