Slog
No purpose but simple motion,
All we do is trudge.
Down across established roads,
To soil turned to sludge.
...
Hope and joy, liberation,
They're not for us to find.
We keep on moving forward,
Dare not look behind.
...
Tanks are here, down below,
While planes fly high above.
Hate and rage are norm emotions,
Rather than simple love.
...
And without a destination,
In neither earth nor sky.
All we can do is shamble on,
And choose a place to die.
