apathy? who cares!

In 1938, a journalist watched from his hotel room the fire on the streets of Shanghai.
This poem came out of that.
The apathy of man.

The Night They Burned Shanghai

Tonight Shanghai is burning,
The flames are leaping high,
And those who fought or kept the peace,
Alike must drably die.

Tonight Shanghai is burning,
The fan-tan games are stilled,
The chips cashed in in blood and gore -
The players all are killed.

Tonight Shanghai is burning,
And we are dying too.
What bomb more surely mortal
Than death inside of you?

For some men die by shrapnel,
And some go down in flames,
But most men perish inch by inch,
In play at little games.

What kind of a man are you?
What games do you play?