We've got a million miles to go
But nowhere to bury our dead;
The bones are bleaching,
Wearing to dust-
Our scalps are burning,
We've got leather for skin
And chalk for eyes,
Fingers like sizzling spiders,
We weave and weave and weave
Blankets for the people we've dreamed about;
But a million miles are left
And only
Hellfire and glory await us.