Better Battery

And the ebb and flow of it all,
And the woe of it all,
and it was that gray morning that
It occurred to him who was fighting who:
Who was thrusting mutiny on the other.
Nineteen years old - maybe twenty now.
(Who won?)

Moving forward in time,
Without reason or rhyme,
Feet in socks,
Socks in shoes,
He stood up.
And then sat back down.

For how could he?
How could he complain,
While under the wing,
How could he...

He couldn't.
And he didn't.
His fight, the fight of us all.