Lifeless, unyielding stone and granite trees

Upon a concrete earth that scrapes the heel

Slim stalks of wheat not rustling in the breeze

Half-withered blossoms lacking basic will for thrill

Mundane affairs of indifference, vanity and love

Crawling numb, like serpents, bloody on jagged soil

Nothing but pyre, lead and water gathering above

And Us, just empty shells enthralled in dull turmoil