Carted off to joy
By a steamrolling mass
Mad, with youthful desire

Their worlds
All blur
And blare the same

Mindlessly, quaking
With the spoils
I dream to reap

In the heart
Of restless droves
I wearily trudge
Enrobed
In torturous silence

Wrangled
Barren and limp
Their passions wheel
Swollen
With young-hearted flair