Mournful
Blast, the Word will never last
A moment all before the General passed
But one command remains, down a path
Without a hope of resolution
On the ground, they know the truth
Sleight of hand, a wicked fragment
Flies around his mournful cries
All dismayed no Mother will arrive
Stiff and still, you call it progress
Unlearned repeats this tragedy
Truly, nothing left to gain
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