You stand,
defiantly and alone,
like a solitary survivor of a great war.

A slave of time
and forgotten by time.
A king of empty fields
of despair and guilt.

Where’s that broken,
empty stomach calling from!
Is it calling from your dingy
and dark shanty towns!

Shanty towns with crumbling dreams.
Shanty towns with pictures of hope
hanging slackly on the walls.
Walls heaved with so many holes
from the effort to stand,
defiantly and alone.

You stare into nothingness
and there lies the riff-raff
on your street corners
and smoking God knows what!

You stare into nothingness
and there lies a myriad of beautiful
flowers lining up your street and
drinking God knows what!

And so you stand,
defiantly and alone
like a solitary survivor
of a great war.

A king of empty fields
and torn down dreams.
A king of broken fields and waste grounds.