They're at the gate to kill us one by one
In line. Remember when we basked in sun
That last good time. The dice gold coin we tossed
Unthinking. Now the sky is overcast
Sleet in our bones. The uniform is thin
Shaved scalps are cold. Your bloodied mouth's a grin
Despise their future. We had such a past
They could not want or know. Yet sing it proud
Make one last perfect music as we die
True joy that shames their misery guilt lie.
Hilarious intricate and bawdy proud
We are the thrush pierces their winter night
First hint green spring in soiled grey slush mud blight.