Feet in the mud. Bell at the gate. Clothes in blood. No time to wait. Palms full of dust. Legs won’t obey. Fingers gone numb. No way back. Stay. The bell slices the daylight, Piercing down to the core. We sprint at its call, And rise when it roars. We live in chains, Bound by the sound, Chained to the grief around. Think? No time. Just run or rot— That’s the law we cannot flout. The raiders come near, The beasts smell the smoke. We keep our heads down And swallow the yoke. No future to hold, No field to reclaim, Only slow, hungry years And the weight of our name. We live in chains. Hear that bell— It knows our fear. One hard note, And we’re all right here. We live in chains.
