world on the edge

let us remember that we cannot win
unless we're willing to forfeit the prize
honour will be forsaken in your eyes
since we are never the masters of spin
thread comes with speed out of the working gin
the final purpose we should not surmise
we wait now for the temperature to rise
and make us suffer with those not our kin
what we can see is horror and hot pain
the weight of air on every downbent head
and all the earth wanting to quail and die
we are not promised any future rain
our only options are torture and dread
and every hope has turned into a lie