In a land of loneliness,
Lay a wraithlike soul.
Writhing unheard and zonked.
Broken again and again,
To the smallest of fragments.
An ant to an atom
And just nothing to the rest.
Oh! The wound so turgid.

In the land of helplessness,
It lies vexed.
Wistful of the warmonger,
Who brought about the conflict,
In its broken nonentity.
The assassins never realize,
‘cause the cripple so whole,
Veils its true emotions
Like a diamond holds light.

And it lies broken,
Hit by deceit,
In the land of wretchedness.