Mess

My brain often refuses to understand
What the hell is going on,
How we could, how we contrived to blend
Black and white, sunset and dawn.
Left and right flew together
Leading to a quite inconceivable direction.

None thought of the borders we had
In our mind,
None thought what the heritage
We live behind.

Profit - first of all
No need of romantic moaning.
We're about to hear loud roll,
Storm is near.

One race strives to wipe the other one
Off the face of the earth.
Trying to show its best motives
For all it's worth.
Victim race fairly tries
To convince the world
Of its exclusive role
Looking at other ones condescendingly
Building around a stone wall.

Pay more attention to such the nation.

Profit - first of all…