and the dying crying out along the road.

Some near-dead jump aboard, they want to see the lord,

without the strength to handle their big load.

All roads lead to the sea, a quarantined country;

we’re trapped within the land where we were born.

No Germans, now, but germs, completely different terms,

and now we are defeated and forlorn.

One day in time there will be a revival,

a new race who somehow mastered survival.

Some hid in airless tombs or found some sterile rooms.

Perhaps there was a commune way up north.

The old world’s gone away, swept out by viral blooms.

And from the cave the new world ventures forth.