50 years, blood, sweat and beating heart of a nation left to bleed out and decay. Who's to say it will all oend the same way? In the better tragedy of the worker, of the father, of every generation lost to their labours, to lovers and children. Judged on the end , not by the means. No man dreams of dying for freedom, no woman to die for liberty. A symptom of our textbook history, that leaves the names and leaves the faces and leaves the dates, but never memories or histories.the wounds that bind them. The struggles that shaped them. Keep all the restless moving. Right time to play but still lose either way. So we're born. and we're bred, and we're beaten down, but never beaten to what has to be done. 50 years with just a watch to show for all the time taken and how much that it meant. Who's to say it will all end the same way? There's no tragedy for the worker, for the father, for generation lost to the rituals of b******s that bury them. Keep all the restless moving. Right time to play but still lose either way. So we're born. and we're bred, and we're beaten down, but never beaten to what has to be done. Go for the throat. Tear out the lungs. It's all too late. The choice is already made: "Do what has to be done!"