In numbers, a pin will sound,

Dust a meal to most,

Blood for all, tears for one,

Fright on a daily.

For golden-agers, toiling was the order,

Seeds at war,

The cause unknown,

Yet, long it lasts.

Voices unheard,

Enveloped in fury,

Sort out to solve but stepping bounds,

Radicalism, all they know.

For this, we suffer emptiness,

Peace now, a stranger,

Yet, hope is not far,

Salvation is all we need.