Spent in magnanimous disposition
Deposited like brittle millstones yet
Fractured by their wear, their use
Returned to heaps of turned earth
From where they once had all come
Never to see old age, nor glory be
N'er to see the final crop, nor liberty
Unnoticed, unfamiliar, lost by time
Their faces, their voices faded fast
'Til none were known or exceptional
That's the way of the world, routine
The mediocrities unable to bloom
A destiny short-lived and disposable
Shards trampled upon the ground
That line the path all consuming
Those unmissed casualties deemed so
Suffering a cost in mankind's learning
That's e'er remedial, and unlimited
Unnoticed, they fall like grains of sand
Never to cast a shadow once again