Feeling drained by life's demands
Dragging myself through the day
Then the war machines arrive
blowing evrything away.
Life is hard without my dog.
Wish I could crawl in a log.

Strained and sore and feeling sick
wishing that I'd packed my lunch
I thought I could grab a bite
but now I'm crammed with this bunch.
My meals were made by my wife
Guess now she was lost in strife.

Seeking meaning deep within
Finding myself peace quite fast
What's important is my son
Was he with his mother last?
Did they make it to the ship
or were they out eating dip?

My son is dead. He's no more,
But I have now a daughter
her family gone that we're sure
Lost, alone just a squatter
Life is hard without a home
What, one day, will end our roam?