forced march

what tells us when the journey isn't done
that there's a long way still so far to go
our feet upon the road are far too slow
behind the distant building sinks the sun
what's hidden there we cannot hope to know
we can't keep up we soon will lose the glow
and walking through the dark is not much fun
the distances seem greater and the weight
of worry about what do do when sleep
sits heavy on the eyes there's naught to do
but to keep going for though it get truly late
rest has to wait till we our meeting keep
we've no choice now we've got to make it through