Oooh they cast green grass o'er the land
a few dead trees half burnt cover the land
these high hills go on for miles
Sustaining a few false promising many
as we arrived in droves the farmstead was already full
An aggressive group who knew everything and everyone
Their purpose for living was to control and decieve
We helped them make a living on the land
as the dusk gleamed on grey under cloud
yet bright enough to leave the land well visible
the farmstead group disappeared altogether
as if they were never there
Parts of the farm itself were no longer there
materials were gone and all evidence
There was no trail, no vehicles nothing
Just the slight aroma of cow dung moist hay
The farmstead was empty now
Adjoing roofed areas devoid of fodder on the mud floor
the silence was deafening
Yet relief was that mountain stream
quiet flowing full
not a ripple
not a rapid
where few of us survivors might drink
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