Tell me not life is in haste
Life is but a bivouac of pain.
All around are men of wild banes.
Scrunching women as paltry flesh.
Can poetry quench sultry thirst?
Nothing at all is an ending quest.

Race is dark and life is earnest.
All around the world are people of conquest.
We move in doubt we move in earnest.
Hoping tomorrow will bring us solace.
While the world is made of many colors
Those in black may fair again.

Hand in hand we made war.
Now alone is the battle rule.
Who declares the end yet unknown.
Heroes will make at vantage dawn.
Except the ones that lead us on.
For life is long and time is fleeting.