Gloomy Days

It is all a wasteland,
It is like Verdun's fields,
Or Stalingrad's streets.
No one is alive,
Nothing will thrive,
Death answered it's call,
And everything had fall,
To his lap they remain,
Until they are freed by their canes,
He guided them to peace,
With nothing but leaps,
Lest someone comes,
We would all be freed.
To walk on this Earth,
No restrictions,
Nor any prohibitions