"Gather 'round children,
let me offer you some sweets,
but don't tell your parents,
where you got these treats,
They're a secret,
I won't tell you,
to keep you from going purple,
because if i really do,
it'll make you feel blue"
We ate these secret sweets with pride, not knowing that they were the result of an event where red candy signifies blood. you'll wish you could taste fire after you find out where they're from, but childhood is bliss and fires are for cooking and candy is for the tastebuds. we never felt the need to find out.
A piece of candy steps out of the factory,
fresh off of the machines,
it is packaged and sent to a shop,
a shop owned by a minority.
the candy settles in at the bottom of a jar,
it'll be a long time till it is sold,
the owner has a great, booming laugh,
that's all the candy really knew.
the piece of candy had never known sadness,
but it could tell that something was wrong when he heard the laughter get higher pitched and multiply a thousand times;
glass jars are protection,
shops are for business,
but this shop is on fire and there are sweets spilling everywhere,
shattered like glass,
shattered like bones.
(sweets don't taste the same when you know that they were covered in the blood of shopkeepers who were killed and looted in the Anti-Sikh Riots of 1984.)
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