Nobody ever stopped my cry
By either pound or the help
To note my ever-lasting rhymes
Telling of pain of which it’s said
So long ago “the hell of west”
They pass me by and show their face
Deprived of any strong emotion
They pull aside me, show me place
To stay locked there till the Moon
Will blow its rusty dusty face
And send the message sealed with fear
To me and put the end. The spear
Is on the field and stuck in mud
A grand hawk soaring. Oh God!
I knew there was a battle. Who
Told me to run away and pull
That stunt again. I had been fool
And learnt not how
To help my friends
Who on the hill
Ran out of veins.