Soldiers

I woke up climbing the anthill
To see that they were dead all
But there were no signs of defeat
Their hard work nobody could cheat
I could not found blood stains or sweat
Scattered all around were cubes of sweet.
A little ahead and down the plateau
Few tiny soldiers walking down furrow
They had no signs of burden or sorrow
Only thinking about all they could borrow
Maybe their happiness or maybe retreat
But did they ever take into account of their fleet?