No destination, No where to call home. Filled with the pain from a million lives, A million cries, every single time. No rest for the wicked, the good, bad or weak, No rest for a world that thrives off of grief. But when you do die, and rise up so tall, Realise your suffering was the suffering of all. Whilst gone, it remains, No hope, just despair, A baby, born - screaming for change. Bare the burden of the entire earth, For you, young child, were given it at birth.
