Haul the pickaxe Pry that crowbar Slam sledgehammer, into rotted foundation. Let's rebuild house on no-man's land. Overlooked corners, no architect planned. I've seen red haired fox, wild turkey, baby deer, prowling proud early morning. Hungry, homeless, in a heartless district. Lost as the crone's secrets, in wind-blown ashes, of the witches pyres. Wild bloodlines, wiped away. Leave as spoiled fruit, of soulless survivors. Generations built fortresses and thrones, never to allow any enjoyment of their luster. Hold no hope in natural laws, nor faith in city walls. Let's just rebuild on no-man's land, overlooked corners, no architect planned. On no-man's land.