Its rocky make up damages every tool assembled,
The metal spoon has brought much disappointment, it wouldn't scoop the rocky earth beneath,
The table knife with which I dug, has left me just one feet deep all week.
The wind has taken sides against my efforts,
The rain hasn't been fair to it either,
The bit of my metal spoon is nullified,
All earth scooped have been washed back to its place.
Like I hadn't done a thing all week,
How much longer will It take to dig a well with my knife and spoon?
I am here the last man left in the try,
The only one too silly to be frustrated,
The one man too determined to bow to logic and reasoning.
I'm 12-months gone now, and making progress,
Progress at all is progress at all,
The sight of water is near, am all dirt with mud,
Amongst those who own wells, someday I'll be named,
And the ones who started and fled, someday some others will be named.
Surprised my tools could get me this far ?
Surprised the forces agains…