Labor of love is not labor I thought
And so I climbed the rungs with ideals high
Off’ring myself as like a lamb resigned
To noble fate all shorn and naked brought
But I can’t as a martyr play this lot
Once it’s been seen as futile and decried
There is but nothing left, an empty hide
Where once a mighty steed stood here and fought
And yet a hope persists marking the war
To set out fresh and force the battle turn
New starts await where there are brighter aims
That don’t require such blood and sweat be poured
Perhaps one day again the heart will yearn
For a reward beyond these lonely games