My only solution for the problem of habitual accidents... is to stay in bed all day. Even then, there is always the chance that you will fall out.

The thunder of seas can be heard from afar,
If Hormuz closes, what than ?
Their radiance dumbfounds and awes.
No time has their water for respite and calm,
Forever at war with its shores.

But a brook never rustles its reeds;
In the shade of Oil
One must freeze to become quit aware
Of need for Oil and...
Of its ripple and lisp among pebbles and roots...
One must bend down to notice it there or no Oil at all.

Yet the brook-water, too, doesn't like to be still,
But untiringly sings night and day; Pumping Oil and
Money...
He who finds it kneels down, and ask for permission
from Allah.  
They who finds it kneels down towards Mekka, 

We will think and hope for a peaceful rendezvous
In the cool of the brooklet to stand without war.
Yet its language so lucid, its music so pure,
Let us hope someone can think, but not for war.
Not everyone can understand power - money
and more power.

What more, my friends, is there to say ?
The scene's so common, so eternal.
Think of all the suffering how lives in...
You know.