Windy, cold, and barren.
Trembling lethargic murmurs.
Tryin to keep up the pace,
but not trying too hard.
Macabre savage whimsies.
Beat after Beat after Beat.
Pumping on monontanously.
Just doing as told.

Speechless and out-spoken.
Raging poisoned rhythms,
dancing only from primitive instinct.
Just waiting for the motherload.....

Scars, deceptive solutions,...and duty.
Are all that remain of this once great soldier.
The warrior that would go laughing into battle.
Now feels nothing, but empty and damaged.

Now it just pumps blood.
And waits for the end.

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