The missile finds the child,
And they do nothing but walk by…
The missile finds the child but they don their disguise…

The foetus finds the ground,
But there’s no one around
At least no one willing to care…

The missile finds the child,
But we’re more concerned about saying the wrong thing to each other than saying ‘I love you…’

The missile finds the child, but we’re destitute and fear feeling…

The missile finds the child, but we’re black water frozen,
Our mechanisms broken,
Our robots erred;

And this whole slave ship design - to crush all of our senses, is ended - expended -

All that’s left is a haunted, weeping child that would even forgive you for your horrors,
But you would rather die than see your true reflection in those waters…