I’ve got the perfect excuse:

I wasn’t there, I am too young,

I don’t speak the language,

And would have been too far away.

Perfect, but nothing like good enough.

In life’s harsh light, we were all there;

Young, old, dead, alive or unborn:

We all know what happened.

Condemned to be cogs in the machine,

Nobody can do the dodge now;

No one can hide and say

‘It’s nothing to do with me.’