They call it Appalonia
from the desert to the shore
We found it and we placed our flag
thus began this tale of yore
It was an eden’s paradise
in those timeless early days
even from september with the frost
until the thaw of may
My family, my tribe they thrived
but then the other fighters
came upon the land so fierce
and our own space got much tighter
And so we burrowed underground
until a new world we had found
and decorated filled with joy
a new place we could now alloy
But many there they did not wish
to move on underground
and so they took their hearts above
and they looked around
But many stayed and yet survived
the new world we’d created
although the earthquakes trembling throughout
like our place there was misstated
and reinforced and readjusted
the walls and rocks above
the crushing slowed down, we were safe
but it became darker underground
From time to time we’d go above
and breathe the air and Sun
and then we’d go back underneath
and live without much fun
The Wars would rage on overhead
and rocks would move and quake
and we would sit and wait below
only half awake
And as the years had passed along
many did forget
who we were or what the world was
and so we lived lives of regret
This taste they called excitement
this thing they called the light
ideas, images, just half known
in whispers in the night
And yet we’d say it’s real
It’s real, and talk of days forgotten
the entrance to this underground
was sealed and we were rotting
Suffocating, slowly dying
happy wondering, never trying
Not believing up above
another world did lay
Instead just staying underground
and rotting one warm May
no one knew
and no one cared
maybe they could have escaped
if they had dared