The taste of sweat; the smell of tears I feel
Amongst the angst that anguishes my soul.
The constant blow of slowly turning wheel
Destroys my heart and takes its hateful toll.

The ache in heart and pith that I must bear
Is far from what I trust my soul to take.
For broken and alone is he whose tear
Falls from his cheek - his heart to break, and ache.

We trust in those we should not trust, and yet -
Our love for them holds strong, prevailing on.
It traps us: keeps us bound in crushing nets.
But still we seek our love at day's new dawn.

And in our love we find our hope, our want
That life is more than just a game or jaunt.