Here the call, look out on the road beyond,   Through glass and blood that runs along the rusted can that's home.   Plowing through the cities, dust and stench that's new   Local traffic stalled a while, is this worth the drive?      Here the call, through hunger, sweat, and empty halls   An ethic of the pioneer, do it or die.      Rest, rest up,   Wrap your wounds, get back on the field,   And breathe, breathe through the dust and mold,   The cities stench, it fuels you.