Outline

A hot blast from the northernmost part of Afghanistan

Likening the docks to one people

A working guard standing at the adjoining point of fire

Something is wrong, in what I see now

What do they want from the weather soldiers when they're gone

I look at the melted sky, walking down the concrete path

Light of heartless eyes, keep just moving, pulling out of memory

Breathing smell of broken glass

But there's hope inside

We are falling