The Unsung

Our earth is torched, scorched and burned beyond all esemblence of worth or work. Our shells lay cracked, battered and unbourne. Our writings and works washed out from what is left of the shore. Even the last tiny sparks of memory fizzle out, cinders snuffing themsleves to save anymore burning. There is nothing left to burn.

We are the Malcontents, the dregs, the hopeless and homeless, the downtrodden, the outcast, the stunned and the shunned. Songs not to sow the seeds but to reap the crop. For all the world who doubts each day. This is forever The Unsaid, The Unsung and the Undone.GO HOME. TELL YOUR CHILDREN THEY SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN.



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