Only dead fish follow the stream
After their eyes lose their gleam
After they can no longer dream
Once they give up
A cleaved head no longer plots
As the rest of the body rots
In stained military cots
And they fade
A tree does not fall with the first blow
The process is slow
As your strength starts to go
And you don't give up
Brawl with a pig and you leave with his stink
Use your words and make him think
As you dip your quill in new ink
And he fades
