Seven hundred wheels on unsolid ground.
Go ahead, make your move,
Just don’t make a sound.
Thousands of boots on unfamiliar fields.
No tears left to spill,
No future left to shield.
Don’t bite your lip, don’t you even frown.
We will take back the cities,
You won’t burn down the towns.
Seven hundred carcases of cheap metal.
You can’t take us with you,
Can’t keep pushing the pedal.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 