They embark this road, as only the ground welcomes their trail.
Crusts of earth swirl around damaged souls, sat in dated machines, avoiding barrels of kings.
Careless reflections and glances begin to toss and turn.
These roads, like waves, swallow them whole.
Solitude roads diverged into the yellow and green, proving magnificent and cunning in sight.
An unavoidable journey's end to a new journey that perhaps has just begun.
Damaged souls, survivors of bombs and chaos, not once spared by our broken roads