Adapt or be crushed there is no
End to the onslaught now hear the sound
Echoeing, a cast of thousands march backwards
Drifting through without ever thinking
Observing but never absorbing
The consequences of this strange detachment
Purpose lost purpose lost
Onward louder than
War time is a virus
Static reigns supreme
Listless functioning with no focus
Another nail in another cross
No martyrs are left to placate the baying hordes
Hungry and thirsty they close in
Repetition is the killer of men
Embrace the futility of the situation
So be the thorn in the flesh
Of the previous
Generation
I say - repay
Thorn in the side