Days beyond days, Nights beyond nights.
Fires beyond flames, Death beyond life.
Who will survive, our self inflicted plight?
No good, I can see, will come of 'civilized' night.
We call for order, then cry and complain,
And little is heard, over war's cries of pain.
We are an illness, a plague on ourselves.
We have tools for betterment, but skulls line our shelves.
Who will survive, you, yourself, and I?
No good can I see, until you understand why.