We come here with black sackcloth
Amidst the dust and rubble of man
Hessian abrades the soft skin of wooden boards
Steeped in the sweat of a nation
Borderless and penned in
The sea is a fence
More or less ending
Foreseeable hence amicable rust
Muster the trouble of people
Cherish the token of known empathy
Drain the gold from the ocean
And cast back it’s wave
Crashing like raindrops in hell
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