By Christolear and Walker "Texas" Kennedy.
The droning battle cry of thirsty men
they call for their mothers
while laying on the wet, damp
mud boats, peacefully sailing around the moon.
The eclipse turns everything into
dirt; colors all blend to one.
Soldiers die on by one by the
giant ant's leering gaze.
It walks not on ground, but on
quarpets, that float above the world.
Death calls them in and
draws them in their path.
The men march on into
the sea waiting on Death's yacht.
They get ready for
the sea to turn to their blood,
carcasses floating among the sea.
their lives and journeys end.
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