Restless illusions
Of great green pastures
All wane through the riptides
We presently suffer

For as long as death rages
There is no cause to dream
To evade
Its lash
And blood-curdling scream

For as long as we purge
And bay our abuse
True to the constant
And wretched howl of beasts

We’ll never fully thrive
Nor tread immune to fear
Afar, from the strife
And seething sway
Of our curse-inspiring day