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Created new lives, being born

With no hope for further existance, without

Chances for contact with mankind, with

The world full of egoism

Our deeds resting on

Innocent people, plans infecting

Minds of loafer, leading

To destruction, to birth of "monsters"

Born creatures not resembling

People, isolated and forgotten

By mankind

Mothers lamenting over disaster

Looking into future of their offsprings

With hatered carved out on faces

They leave the world

Children of progress, sentenced to

Eternal slavery, like rotten fruit

They die slowly, not leaving the sign

Of their existance.